


The Extent of Your Sin

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Blood, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gangbang, Gaslighting, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is Nice, M/M, Misuse of the Force, Partner Swapping, Past Child Abuse, Past Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage Sex, Physical Abuse, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scarification, Substance Abuse, Under-negotiated Kink, mostly - Freeform, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:23:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: Doph Mitaka is a prostitute with a serious drug problem. Kylo Ren finds him on a backwater planet and introduces him to Hux, setting into motion a dangerous relationship.Other than Mitaka's story, this is canon-compliant.





	1. No Time

Lord Kylo Ren doesn’t have time for relationships. He has much more important things to focus on. Training with his Knights, hunting down the few remaining Jedi, cutting his way through swarms of Resistance scum. He’s busy.  
         But that doesn’t negate the fact that as an adult human he has needs which require attending to every now and then. Since his closest interpersonal relationships are acquaintances, and because he hasn’t had the best luck convincing acquaintances to sleep with him, he has to pursue other routes. Thus, whenever he finds himself on a mission in seedier locales (which describes most of the places he’s ended up recently), he tends to gravitate toward certain areas of town. Which is precisely what he’s doing tonight on Lothal. Leaving his helmet, sabre, and robes on the nondescript transport that brought him here, he strides in the direction of buzzing neon lights. His hair is pulled back, held at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. He’s wearing close-fitting leggings and a tunic, and carrying just enough credits to buy anything he might care to have.  
         Surveying the clientele at the first club he comes to, he decides it’s a bit upscale for this evening. Tonight he wants someone experienced, if not a little down-at-the-heels and desperate. Someone he won’t have to make small talk with. Someone who will be grateful for his attention and money.  
         At the third club, a young man catches his eye. He’s small, trim, and dressed rather modestly for a rentboy. But the callous downward turn of his lips and slightly smudged eyeliner mark him as the sort who’s learned how to give a fantastic blowjob.  
         Ren sidles up beside him. “Do you need a drink?”  
         “Nah, thanks though. Need a date?”  
         Just about as plain-speaking as he’d hoped. He nods and gives the boy a smile. “Yes. How much?”  
         “Base rate is a hundred.”  
         “What does that get me?”  
         “My mouth and ass, in that order.”  
         Again, the knight nods. He doesn’t negotiate these transactions, and he doesn’t stoop to using mind tricks, either. It’s odd, in a way, that he’ll employ every dirty manoeuver he knows to cut corners and costs elsewhere, but when it comes to renting someone’s body, all that starts seeming terribly unfair. Bordering on… well, rape. Ren may be frustrated, angry, and lonely, but he doesn’t do that. Instead, he holds out his hand. The whore accepts it and they shake.  
         “Pleased to meet you. I’m Doph and I’ll be your slut until you’re done with me.” This is recited by rote, but despite that fact—or perhaps because of it—something stirs inside Ren. After all, this is the closest he allows himself to get to anyone.

 

“So where do we go?” Ren asks once they’re outside the bar.  
         Doph cups a hand around his sparker, lighting a cigarette. After he’s taken a first deep drag, he answers. “Depends on how long you wanna take. There’s a few back alleys for a quick one, or we could go to my place. I live alone.”  
         “Where is that?”  
         “Not far. Just long enough to finish my smoke.”  
         The knight nods. He’s not opposed to a fast fuck against a wall, but tonight he’d like to take his time. He wants to get fully naked and at least a little sweaty with this young man. “Take me home, then. I’d like to get my money’s worth out of you.”  
         The whore leads him to a dingy one-room apartment five blocks away from the club. The front door is bolted with multiple locks and an inner chain. Inside it’s poorly lit, but tidy. There’s a worn but clean-looking couch in the living area, and from here Ren can see the edge of a bed tucked away in a corner behind a small privacy screen.  
         Both men peel off their jackets. The boy hangs his on a hook behind the door; Ren follows suit. Turning toward him, the knight reaches for his face.  
         Looking awkward for the first time since they met, Doph shies away. “I don’t kiss. Not on the mouth, anyway.”  
         Ren shrugs, pretending he doesn’t care. “Fine. What do you do with your mouth, then?”  
         The whore smirks and promptly sinks to his knees. Unbuckling Ren’s belt and unzipping his fly, he peels the leggings down. “Kriff, you’re big.”  
         “Yes, I know.” He isn’t boasting; it’s just obvious. “You don’t mind?” Again, he’s being practical. A few months ago a prostitute actually backed out of sex (citing the need to work the next day) and Ren had to settle for oral and a partial refund.  
         Chuckling at the question, Doph says, “I’m a professional. It’s what I do.”  
         What he does is get Ren blindingly hard before the knight pulls him off his knees and moves the both of them toward the bed. They strip. Laying the boy on his back, Ren notices a bowl of condoms on the bedside table. As he reaches into it, a hand presses against his chest.  
         “Twenty more credits and you don’t need one.”  
         “Mm. Deal,” Ren groans happily, overhearing the thought, _You’re strangely handsome. Do you know that? Or do you think no one would date you?_  
         Doph points to a bottle of lubricant. “That’s water-based. If you want silicone-based, it’s in the drawer.”  
         Ren grabs the first one, since it’s nearest to hand. He slicks himself up, watching Doph stretch his limbs below him. The whore has a very nice body, trim with sparse body hair. Ren runs a hand down the centre of Doph’s chest. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he whispers.  
         “Thanks. I like your eyes,” the whore says groggily, sounding like he’s already half asleep. Ren gazes into glassy eyes, which appear to be looking just past him. It’s unnerving. To rouse him, the knight slaps his face lightly. “Hm?” the boy asks, stirring a little on the mattress.  
         “Focus. Pay attention to me.”  
         “Y’sir,” he mumbles obligingly.  
         “Thank you,” Ren says with a sarcastic tone. “I’m the one who paid you, after all.”  
         The whore returns to giving that slightly dazed smile. Kylo tells himself he wouldn’t like this on a regular basis, but the novelty of it has him aching. He’s fucked plenty of drunk men (usually while drunk himself), but this level of dissociation is different. Ren hasn’t ever had to vie for attention with sleep. Doph has certainly been on the game for some time.  
         “Beg me to fuck you,” he growls.  
         “Fuck me, please fuck me.” This responding plea rings hollow, but Ren doesn’t mind. Instead he just grabs the boy’s hips and angles himself inwards. Doph’s brow creases when Kylo pushes past his resistance, but this is the easiest anyone has ever taken him.  
         The knight moans, “Gods, you’re so kriffing loose. Feels like you’ve been fucked all night.”  
         The look he receives in response says, _Maybe I have been._  
         Even though he remembers, Ren asks, “What’s your name again?”  
         “What do you care?” Doph returns.  
         Kylo shrugs. “Well, I’m Ren. I want you to scream it when I come.” Looking down into the eyes of the stranger he’s inside, Ren wonders how old he is. Early twenties, at most. Certainly younger than the knight, but undoubtedly more experienced.  
         “Fair enough.”  
         The pretty whore stretches his arms above his head, and Ren catches sight of a series of track marks along the insides of both elbows. Something in his stomach hurts in response. For a brief moment, he considers pulling out in order to wear a condom. This boy obviously has significant problems, and Kylo shouldn’t take advantage. Is he taking advantage of a bad situation? At least Ren knows he’s clean, knows he won’t cause Doph any further damage. Unless even the act of hiring the rentboy poses potential harm.  
         But then Doph is smiling up at him, eyes closed as his breaths come in short gasps.  
         “How many men have you already taken tonight?”  
         With a confident smirk, Doph answers, “Just you, love.”  
         Kylo slaps him, his palm connecting more solidly than before. “Don’t try that act. You’re not classy enough for it.”  
         “Fine, asshole,” Doph spits. “Three. But the night’s still young.”  
         “Yes, and you’re cheap. Did they all come in this hole?”  
         “Two did. The first wanted my mouth. Either that or he was short a twenty.”  
         “You charge extra to take loads in your ass?”  
         “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.” The set of his jaw says that if he’s going to risk illness, he ought to demand a premium for it. Still, Ren hasn’t been with a whore willing to do even that. He supposes he hasn’t yet seen someone this low class.  
         “Those two still in here from earlier?” The thought fascinates him. He skims Doph’s recent memories and finds that the boy doesn’t clearly remember the faces of any of today’s earlier customers. Is that sad, or just practical?  
         Dopheld scoffs. “Can you feel ‘em?” he asks sarcastically, then answers his own question. “No, you don’t. ’Cuz I wash up between jobs.”  
         “Good. I didn’t pay to fuck you using some stranger’s come as lube. What’s the most loads you’ve taken in one shift?”  
         The kid grins proudly. “I do parties sometimes. Me and this other boy, last month we worked a room of thirty. Course I took most of ’em in the end. I’m prettier, and I don’t cry when _I_ hurt.”  
         “That’s because you’re high most of the time, aren’t you?” Honestly, Ren wasn’t intending to bring this up, but some impulse has him wanting to verbally spar with the boy.  
         “Certainly helps. Why, you think you could do my job sober?”  
         Surprised by the boy’s candour, Kylo Ren responds in kind. “I could never degrade myself the way you do.”  
         “Good thing there’s bitches like me, then.”  
         Ren grabs Doph by the neck and slams himself in up to the hilt. “Yes. What you do is a real service. The galaxy needs its come-dumps and fuck-toys.”  
         Guessing the man’s intent, Doph uses a warning tone when he demands, “Show me twenty more credits before you even think of unloading.”  
         “What if I just shoot into this filthy hole and leave you full up?” Ren asks with a brilliant grin, flashing his teeth.  
         “I’ll call security,” he threatens.  
         “You don’t have security.” He takes both of Doph’s wrists in a single hand and pins them to the mattress above his head. “Just a pistol under your pillow that you won’t be able to reach.” He can hear Doph wondering how he knows this, but figures it’s just a lucky guess. The boy can tell he isn’t the first man Ren has paid for this sort of interaction. These days he’s never anyone’s first whore.  
         “Fucking bastard. You can’t rip me off like that.”  
         “Oh, I think you’ll find there’s plenty I can do. And who’s going to care, hm? If I take you again without paying, is that rape or just theft? If I hurt you or even cut your throat after I’m done, it won’t matter at all.” Ren stares down at the mostly broken boy below him. Because he hadn’t felt any shock or fear from Doph during his threats, only weary resignation. “But you already know that. You’re used to being hurt, aren’t you?” Also, he hadn’t actually meant these threats; he’d simply been trying to prod some instinctive emotion out of the boy. As a damaged individual himself, he appreciates damaged goods... but being with someone who’s given up entirely is a let-down.  
         “I can take it,” Doph insists with a bitter grin that’s more like a grimace. “I’m a professional, after all.”  
         “That’s the spirit. You know, you really are quite pretty. Even drugged up and fucked out. How old are you, anyway?”  
         The boy cocks his head coyly and answers, “Nineteen.”  
         Even without the Force, Ren could have guessed this was a lie from the sudden change in tone of voice. He backhands the whore across the face, twice for good measure. “How _old_ are you?”  
         “Twenty two.”  
         Still young for all the experience he must have had. “How long have you been doing this?”  
         “Getting fucked by privileged assholes who never had to wonder where the next meal is coming from? Who can’t convince their own partners to do the filthy things they want in bed?”  
         That’s more like it. Ren is instantly energised by Doph’s jaded rage. It feeds into the darkness around them, increasing Ren’s violent lust. “Yes.” He wants to know exactly how many men have used this young man. How many blowjobs? How many facials? Has he ever been recorded on holo—and if so, can Ren get his hands on a copy?  
         “A decade. And I’ve got maybe five more years left before one of you kills me or I overdose.”  
         The knight tries not to think about the fact that this means Doph started at the age of twelve. That thought is profoundly unsexy. Painful questions arise in his mind: Had he been a virgin for his first customer? How much had it hurt? _Stop. Focus elsewhere._ “At least you’re not a fool.” Performing some quick math (using a very conservative estimate of two tricks a night for ten years), Ren guesses that Doph has had over seven thousand men. Or been fucked that many times, seeing as how he must have had some repeat customers.  
         “So,” Doph sneers, “is this a date, or are you gonna come in me some time this evening?”  
         Kylo snorts derisively. “I’d never date a piece of trash like you.” Actually… _No_ , he insists, putting a stop to that right away. _The hooker with the heart of gold is a worn-out trope. Don’t entertain the thought._  
         “Then get off and get out already. I’ve got a line of glitter to take before I can put up with another customer, and I was overdue for a hit when you showed up.”  
          _Shameless junkie_ , Ren thinks. “Want me to come in your worthless ass?”  
         Doph answers in short phrases as he gasps in time with Kylo’s thrusts. “What I want… doesn’t matter… and never has.”  
         “I appreciate that you know your place. You’d better thank me for this. Although I do wish you were sober so you could really feel me.”  
         “I don’t.” He pants lightly before explaining. “You’re too big for my personal tastes… nnn, fuck.” The quiet moan belies his criticism of Ren’s size.  
         Ren can’t help but wonder about the details of Doph’s personal tastes. What would he want from a boyfriend if he were to have one? Aloud, he taunts, “I’m sorry, did I happen to hit a sweet spot just then?”  
         “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Doph chants, finally sounding enthusiastic as he begins to jerk himself. “Please don’t stop doing that. You’re gonna make me come, Ren.” He says the knight’s title in a voice approaching a whine.  
         The knight is suddenly aware that the boy doesn’t always get off, that he’s rather picky about who he chooses to do it with. Ren is more than a bit flattered. “You certainly chose the right career. I imagine this is the only thing you’re good at. And fuck, are you good at it.” Doph moans wildly at the combined insult and compliment. “I can tell you love being used like this, and you know you deserve it.”  
         “Yeah, I do. Use me. Get your money’s worth outta me.”  
         “I just may give you that twenty after all. Along with my come. Are you ready for it? Because I’m about to fill you up.”  
          "Yes!" Doph wails as he spills onto his stomach. “Give it to me. I can take it. Shoot that load deep inside me.” When he feels Kylo’s rhythm stutter and his breath hitch, he shouts in desperate encouragement, “Ren! Please, Ren!”  
         Throwing his head back, Kylo empties. He can’t remember the last time he’s postponed an orgasm this long, and the delayed release has him seeing lights behind his closed eyelids.  
         Before he leaves, he heads to the minuscule fresher to splash water on his face and rinse off his drained cock. Calling out from the sink, he tells Doph, “I’m going to be planetside for a few weeks. I need your contact info if I’m not going to go insane here.” He leans into the doorway to catch the boy’s response.  
         Doph nods as he lights a cigarette. “Got any friends or coworkers you’d recommend me to? Or is the Order too uptight about that sort of shit?” Ren looks flabbergasted. “What, thought I wouldn’t place you? Even I recognise the name ‘Ren’. You’re one of their creepy Knights.”  
         Deciding not to take issue with this description, Ren answers, “Yes. But the ‘Ren’ part is more title. Our personal names proceed it.”  
         “Which one are you, then? Gaylo?”  
         “It’s Kylo. Don’t think you can call me that, though.”  
         Doph fakes a look of horror at the thought. “Far be it from me to be so presumptuous, sir! Anyway, feel free to share my calling card if you get the opportunity. I’m open to most anything that isn’t straight,” he explains with a grin. “Although the kinkier activities do carry fees.”  
         “Actually, I already have someone in mind for you. Someone handsomer than me, and much more polite.” Besides, the general could probably benefit from a discreet, no-strings-attached lay. Or three. He’s been particularly uptight lately since receiving the go-ahead for his end-all-be-all project. Ren has tried to explain that micromanagement isn’t healthy, but if Hux is going to listen to anyone, it sure as hell isn’t Kylo Ren.  
         “Good. And if you come back, you don’t need to pay the bareback fee again.”  
         “Repeat customer discount?”  
         “I like to think of it as a loyalty bonus, but sure.”  
         The knight suggests, “You could call the twenty credits a one-time processing fee.”  
         “Yeah, but I don’t always drop it going forward.”  
         Ren’s forehead crinkles. “Like me that much?” he teases.  
         Doph snorts. “You’re not bad looking. I like your hair. And you know how to use that oversized dick. I could get used to you.”  
         On his way out, Ren gives the boy an extra twenty credits on top of the additional forty he owes. Perhaps it helps balance out some of the things he said. He knows it doesn’t.


	2. Party

The next time they meet, Doph passes out while Ren is inside him. In order not to wake him, the knight slows his pace. He does, however, check in on the boy’s dreams. Perhaps he should feel significant qualms about this, but he doesn’t. He’s paid for Doph’s time, and if the boy isn’t going to be bothered to stay awake, Kylo might as well get some amusement out of him.  
         Doph is remembering his most recent party. Seventeen hundred credits, receiving half as down-payment and the balance at the end of the night. The other boy has the same deal, but going into it, Doph knows he’s going to do more than his share of the work. Compared to his friend, he’s hands down the superior whore, since he’s cuter and has a better (read: more careless) attitude. Doph’s been on the game longer. Soon enough, his friend will either toughen up or quit and go back to pushing pills. But Set is poor and gay and this is one of his options to make quick money. Doph been the one to suggest it to him: _If you like getting fucked anyway, why not get paid for it?_  
         In preparation, Doph premedicates rather heavily (two long-acting benzodiazepines, a controlled release morphine tab that cost him twenty bloody credits, and two lines of glitter). The cocktail lends his memories a jumpy, nonlinear quality from the start. The faces and bodies are a blur, but they’re unimportant to begin with. Doph’s goal is to satisfy his customers and return home in one piece. He doesn’t need to remember the details. Names and mannerisms won’t change anything; money does.  
         The party is in celebration of some local kid’s graduation from university. This is his last hurrah before he leaves this shitty homeworld for good. There are strippers, three of them, to help set the mood. All they do is gyrate to terrible music and slowly peel their clothes off. Doesn’t take much talent, and Doph is relieved to learn that he's being paid far more than them. During a smoke break, one of the dancers refers to Doph’s wages as “hazard pay” and he rather agrees. He tries not to reflect on the fact that he’s the precisely same age as these clients, that in another life he’d be celebrating his own graduation. Doph knows he’s smart enough for it, but his upbringing did not set him on a path for higher education.  
         His strategy for tonight is to do the best he can with his mouth to limit the number of loads he takes up his ass. The tricks decide to keep two tallies running using a waterproof marker on his skin. The tick-marks on his left shoulder reflect loads swallowed; those on his right hip are the ones dumped in his other hole. The total at the end of the night: eight (mouth) and eleven (ass). Before heading home, he snaps a picture of his back for posterity. The moment he arrives back at his apartment, he takes a shower until the hot water runs out (this takes about twelve minutes). He’s not surprised to wash some blood from between his legs. After towelling dry, he rubs a generous dollop of bacta between his cheeks and follows it up with a steroid ointment to reduce inflammation. He makes sure to insert some of the combination as well. Switching his comm back on, he sets a reminder to instruct him to stop by the clinic for a full screening panel in two weeks.  
         Then he washes down a double-dose of benzos with a belt of whiskey and ties off for a full cc of tar. The plan is to sleep through the pain. Maybe not wake up at all. Worse things could happen. (Worse things have happened.)  
         At 1640 the next day, he does in fact wake up. He has to go on part-time disability and only give head for three days. But with the credits he made from the party, he can afford it. Plus it generated some leads: five attendees have already contacted him for one-on-one appointments, and another two have name-days coming up. He purchases three multi-dose vials of morphine in solution and spends a glorious week unconcerned about the provenance or purity of what he’s putting in his veins. He shows up for his appointment and receives a single dose of azithromycin to treat chlamydia; it isn’t the first time. But he’s lucky it wasn’t worse.  
         Ren surfaces for a moment to find he’s softened enough to slip out of Doph’s body. Shaking his head to disperse thoughts of the party’s concerning aftereffects, he dives into the heat of its memories. Listens to half-remembered shouts as he slowly jerks himself back to attention. Yes, this is what Ren wants to taste.  
         Boys cheering as one more of them climaxes, white-knuckled fingers gripping Doph by the slim waist, the full-body shudder, and then the quiet panting of recovery from release. Soon the satisfied boy is pushed aside by another.  
         “Who’s next? Keep him full!”  
         A finger shoving the freshest load of ejaculate back inside, using a bit as lube around the head of a desperately swollen cock. The stuttering push inside. “Ah, fu-uck. So wet. Gonna breed your thirsty bitch hole some more.”  
         Doph taking his cues and repeating key phrases. “Fuck my hole. Fill me up. Give me your load.” And the crowd is so enthusiastic, they neither suspect nor care that he’s reciting. Besides, between young men he snorts at least a bump of glitter (free for the entertainment), so his energy mimics genuine excitement. “More!” he shouts. “I can take it. Why am I able to talk? Someone gimme a dick to suck!”  
         Kylo Ren comes to and gives himself a few more slow tugs, then shakes Doph until he rouses as well.  
         “Shit, sorry, did I—”  
         “No matter. I just wanted you awake for this.” With no further warning, he dives inside, causing the boy to let out a sharp cry. It certainly seems to wake him up fully. “I’d love to watch you get gang-banged,” he murmurs into Doph’s ear, then gives the lobe a suck.  
         “Tell you what. I can… Just hold up for a moment, would you?” He huffs in exasperation while the knight continues to pound him. “Pfassk, what are you, sixteen? Lemme find the bloody remote.” Doph sits up, disentangles himself from the knight’s long limbs, and turns on the projector. He punches a code into the controller, and a vid starts playing. “There. Enjoy.” He positions himself on elbows and knees so Ren can have him and watch the screen at the same time.  
         “Fuck,” the knight groans. “You recorded it?”  
         “Well, I didn’t _personally_. But I insisted on a copy.”  
         “This the most recent one?” Ren asks, holding himself in one hand and lazily fingering Doph with the other.  
         The boy nods. “Graduation party.”  
         Ren almost says, “I know,” but stops himself because he isn’t ready to have the Force conversation with his whore. Doph was certainly accurate in remembering the music as terrible. But soon other sounds drown it out. “You look good spit-roast,” he observes.  
         “Thank you.” He lets out a subtle grunt when Ren plunges back inside. “One thing I like about these parties is that the guys tend to keep each other on track. No one wants to wait twenty minutes between turns. It’s all very pump-and-dump.”  
         “Skip forward an hour,” Ren instructs. “I want to see you after you’ve been used a while.”  
         Doph nods and obeys. The boy on the screen is now sweat-slicked, his dark hair mussed, eyeliner smudged. The cleft between his cheeks glistens with a mixture of lube and ejaculate. More is dribbling down the insides of both legs; some has pooled on the floor.  
         “There’s my fucked out little bitch. How many have you taken by this point?” He can tell it’s been eight, but he wants to hear Doph say it.  
         The boy looks up and reads his back. “Three down my throat, five up my ass.”  
         “The pen marks on your skin?”  
         “Yes.”  
         Hearing and watching another young man unload, Ren has to employ the Force to hold back a too-early climax of his own. “Gods. Listen to it, listen to them _use_ you. Like a cheap toy, just passing you back and forth. Taking whatever hole they want. And you just let them.”  
         “It’s all part of the job, Ren. I take what I’m given.” In his mind, he adds, _That_ _may_ _be_ _the_ _only_ _part of the job._  
          Overhearing the thought, Ren nods. “Yes, good point. By the way, I’m going to arrange that meeting with my… colleague. For his name-day. It won’t be a room of thirty, but I’m sure the two of us can have a reasonable amount of fun with you.”  
         “Oh, you’re gonna stay for it?” Doph is imaging another knight—also tall and muscular—joining the two of them.  
         “Mm-hmm. Planning on shoving myself all the way down your throat while he pounds your ass. Can’t wait to hear him panting and moaning when he spills inside your wide-open hole. While you struggle to breathe around me. Then I’ll have you.”  
         Doph hums. He’s on board with this plan. “I always liked doing friends. Much better than couples, since there’s no messy feelings to get in the way.” As Ren increases his pace, Doph drops his head. “I’m glad you’re my last for the night. Don’t wanna take anyone after you.”  
         The knight smiles. “That’s because anyone else would be a disappointment.”  
         “Sure, yes. It has nothing to do with your size.” He spits into his palm and starts stroking himself.  
         “Also you like getting off with me,” Ren notes. “Coming while you’re stretched out like this.”  
         “Mm,” Doph allows.  
         Ren shoots a hand forward and pulls the boy’s head up. “Look at the screen, you cunt. I want us both to come watching you getting screwed out of your drugged little mind.”  
         They do, their groans and shouts mixing with those of the recorded crowd.  
         Coming down, lying on twisted sheets, Ren and Doph breathe. “You were made for this, weren’t you?” Ren asks, running fingertips down Doph’s sweaty spine. “Perfect career for you.”  
         “Y’know, I didn’t exactly grow up hoping to become a junkie whore.”  
         “No? What did you hope to be, then?” The knight is teasing, but he’s also a bit curious.  
         “Not hungry.”  
         “Oh.” What else can you say to something like that? For all the difficulty he had as a child and adolescent, Ben Solo had never worried about the provenance of his next meal, or clothes or shelter. Poverty certainly narrows a person’s focus as well as opportunities.  
         Doph continues quietly. “Honestly, I never really thought about what I was gonna do with myself. Hated school, when I went. Everyone was always a bastard to me about my ratty hair and dirty fingernails. I got hit a lot. Couldn’t focus on learning.” He glances over at Kylo Ren. “Can’t imagine you were bullied much, though.”  
         Ren snorts. “I was, some. Because I was small and angry and my ears and nose were gigantic.”  
         “They still are,” Doph taunts, sticking his tongue out.  
         The knight chuckles, closes his eyes briefly, and imagines he isn’t paying for this interaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags for:  
> -Continuation of sex while one party is asleep  
> -Undisclosed Force-snooping  
> -Past gang-bang


	3. Name Day

Three days after their second date, Doph is following Ren to the edge of town. This is where the knight’s shuttle is docked. On the way, the whore smokes a series of cigarettes and inquires about the third man they’re going to meet.  
         “Your friend.”  
         “Colleague,” Ren corrects.  
         “Colleague. Is he another knight?”  
         “No. He’s regular military.”  
         Doph sighs. “I don’t much like FO troopers. Too much posturing and bravado. Always so afraid to look anything other than straight.”  
         “This one isn’t a trooper. He’s an officer.”  
         The boy breathes out in relief. “Good. Much more civilised.” He’s rather enjoyed the few officers who’ve hired him. They tend to be polite and don’t waste time getting what they paid for.  
         “Yes, the general is the epitome of civilisation.” This is said with a bit of an eyeroll.  
         “General? How old is he?” Doph imagines someone at least in his fifties, which isn’t a problem, exactly. But he’s surprised if someone Ren’s age would have much in common with an older career officer.  
         “Mid-thirties.”  
         “Oh.” Doph processes this information. “Oh. It’s Hux, isn’t it? He’s pretty. Always looks so disappointed, though.” Honestly, the boy doesn’t pay much attention to galactic politics. Or even the local type here on Lothal. As long as the city’s police force remains mostly apathetic and entirely bribe-able, it’s really none of his concern. Usually when he’s threatened with arrest for solicitation or possession, he’s able to shy away from it with a free blowjob. One cop in particular he suspects keeps an eye out for him with that particular outcome in mind.  
         “Probably because he doesn’t get laid enough,” Ren speculates.  
         A wide grin spreads across Doph’s face. This is where he comes in to the picture. “Let’s see if I can help with that.”  
         They reach the shuttle. It’s unmarked, but Doph can tell it’s expensive. Vaguely he wonders what would bring the two of the Order’s top brass to this wretched place. Ren turns to the boy, tidies his hair a bit, and outlines his plan.

 

“Happy name-day, Hux.”  
         “Thank you, Ren,” Hux says reflexively before a startled look makes an appearance on his face. “How did you—”  
         “You’re not the only one with access to personnel files. Well, it’s not _official_ access, but still.”  
         In horror, Hux asks, “You sliced the system to find out the date of my name-day?”  
         Kylo shrugs, unashamed. “I got you a present.”  
         The general inclines his head in silent inquiry. Awaiting his tribute, hoping it’s worth Ren’s security breach.  
         “I’d like you to meet someone.” Turning and raising his voice, he calls out, “Doph, get in here.”  
         The bedroom door swings open and the boy shimmies into the living area. He’s shirtless, wearing only a thin leather collar and form-fitting black trousers. As he slinks toward them, the general notices eyeliner. And his lips are strikingly moist—is that from gloss?  
         “So you’re the general,” he drawls, sounding unimpressed by the rank. “I’ve seen your holos.”  
         “Indeed.” Hux removes his cap and Doph takes a sharp breath.  
         “Damn. Had no idea you’re a redhead. Got a generous discount for gingers, as long as the carpet matches the drapes.” He says this last bit with a lascivious leer and a meaningful downward glance.  
         That earns him a raised eyebrow, then the general turns to Ren. “He’s a—”  
         “Yes. He’s a rentboy.”  
         Facing Doph again, Hux scowls a little. “I don’t pay people to pleasure me,” he states coolly.  
         “It’s on me, Hux,” Ren assures him. “I said he was a present. He’s already been paid for the night.”  
         “Barring any additional fees you might incur,” Doph clarifies. “Which Ren for one will probably rack up, because he seems to like his add-ons.”  
         The redhead looks about to ask what sort of add-ons Lord Ren enjoys, but instead clears his throat and reaches into his inner coat pocket for his cigarette case. When he opens it, Doph speaks again.  
         “Give one here, love,” he demands, fingers already outstretched in expectation.  
         Hux’s nose wrinkles at the presumptuous familiarity. People—especially strangers, especially low-class ones—simply do not address him in this manner. But then he takes a calming breath and reminds himself that nothing this boy says matters. What counts is how well he manages to please. Because he’s decided to accept Ren’s present. “So, what is the plan?” he inquires, lighting Doph’s cigarette first. Let no one say he isn’t the epitome of gentlemanly behaviour.  
         Doph grins. “What would you like it to be, Hux?” But before he finishes asking the question, he’s already sinking to his knees. With the burning cigarette clamped between his teeth, he unbuckles the general’s belt and whips it off with a dramatic flourish. After pulling the uniform trousers and briefs down to Hux’s feet, he takes a look at what he’ll be working with. “Very nice,” he whispers, even though Hux isn’t yet hard. Leaning in, he pops the soft member between his sticky lips and massages it with his tongue. Hux stiffens very quickly.  
         Ren watches Hux’s expression and chuckles. “He’s talented, isn’t he, General? Years of practice, along with payments to reinforce good habits. Still,” Kylo says, “I think he can do better.” Moving to stand behind Doph, he grabs the back of the young man’s head and pushes him down. “There’s a boy. Dirty fucking whore.” Smiling over Doph at Hux, Kylo suggests, “Make him look at you while he’s swallowing your cock.”  
         Hux looks thoughtful for a moment before he tilts his chin down and drawls, “You heard him. Keep your eyes on me, boy.”  
         Doph flutters dark lashes at the general, who thinks he might in fact be wearing mascara as well. Reflecting on the fact that he’s never been with someone like this, Hux finds himself panting. A male willing to wear makeup and a collar. Someone who smokes while giving head. A prostitute. None of this should be attractive. Oh, but it is. And it’s giving him some ideas about what exactly he might be able to get away with.  
         The whore pulls off Hux’s dick for a quick inhalation of nicotine, then puts his mouth back to work immediately. He exhales smoke over the general’s groin, and the tingling sensation as it curls around his bare skin is absolutely bizarre. The redhead moans.  
         Bending down to stage-whisper in the boy’s ear, Kylo says, “We’re going to fuck you so long and hard tonight, you’ll want to quit. Going to make you beg and cry and ache for us. We’ll see how many times you can get us off before the end of the overnight cycle. Maybe we’ll even let you climax. We’ll have to see how you do.”  
         Doing a quick mental calculation, Doph figures that at most each of these men will be able to go three times with him. Six rounds over the course of several hours isn’t going to come near to making him cry. So he doesn’t answer, just continues to alternate between sucking at the general’s dick and his cigarette. Soon Hux looks at Kylo with heavy-lidded eyes, and groans, “You take him for a while. I don’t want to come yet.” He projects another thought: _And his mouth is doing terrible things to me._  
         “Don’t worry about that, Hux. I have plans. Go ahead and make him taste you.”  
         Hux looks unconvinced, but he does interlace his fingers around Doph’s head and hold him down as he fucks up into his throat. “There, take it, take it all, you filthy thing.”  
         Doph drops his cigarette and tries to pull back multiple times, gagging loudly as he struggles. Kylo gives Hux credit for persistence, as he forces the boy to keep his lips pressed against his pelvis despite the strings of saliva dripping down Doph’s chin and onto the floor and the wretched noises he’s making.  
         “No, no, you’re not going anywhere until I’m done. This is what you’re here for. Earn it.” He comes listening to the whore choke him down. As he pulls out, he reaches down to clamp a hand over Doph’s mouth. “Swallow it, now. Don’t waste my gift to you.”  
         Roughly, Kylo takes hold of Doph by the belt loops on his pants and pulls him upright. “Bedroom,” is all he says in explanation. Once there, he lightly tosses Doph onto the bed and demands, “Take those trousers off and show us your worthless hole.”  
         “It’s good enough for you,” the whore snaps as he unzips his fly.  
         The knight backhands him casually. “Such a mouth on you.” He shoves Doph onto his back and pulls the pants off his legs. As usual, the boy isn't wearing underwear beneath. “It’s a good thing there’s two of us here. One to fuck you, one to keep you quiet.”  
         There’s a polite cough from the doorway and Hux begins, “About that.”  
         Ren turns around, half a smile already playing on his lips. “Yes?”  
         The general gestures downwards, pointing out his unexpected erection. “I assume you’re to blame for this.”  
         “Of course, Hux. And you’re welcome.”  
         “Will I be able to… finish again?”  
         Ren nods proudly. “And again and again.” A bottle of lubricant flies across the room and into his outstretched fingers.  
         “What the fuck is that?” Doph demands in wide-eyed shock.  
         “The Force. I’m sure you’ve heard of it, despite having spent most of your life in bed or against the nearest wall.”  
         “The Jedi are dead,” the startled boy insists.  
         Hux adds, “Thanks in no small part to this man.”  
         Kylo nods slowly. “Besides, I’m not a Jedi.”  
         “What the hell are you, then?”  
         “A monster,” Hux offers in a deadpan tone. Kylo shoots him a grin.  
         “A monster who, along with his friend, can fuck you all night.”  
         Doph looks more than a little horrified as he reruns the numbers from earlier.  
         “What? You usually take men one after the other, don’t you?”  
         “Not _your_ size! Shit, Ren, you’ll tear me open.” He points to Hux with a thumb. “And he won’t help any.”  
         Kylo shrugs. “You’re plenty loose. All those cocks you’ve practised on. Let’s see what you’re really capable of taking.” He gestures to the general. “Open him up for me, would you?” The knight joins Doph on the bed and holds his arms above his head. “Lube up, then lift his legs and slide right in. He does this for a living, after all.”  
         “What about condoms?”  
         “I’m clean,” the boy states.  
         The general turns to Ren for confirmation.  
_—Yes, he was tested this morning._  
         In Hux’s experience, this information is usually reciprocated, but Doph just waits for his decision. The whore doesn’t demand that he prove his own health status. The general wonders if the pay is worth the risk, and if the boy even cares. Hux follows Ren’s earlier suggestions, gripping Doph by the calves and entering swiftly. Usually when he goes this fast, it’s met with a sob of discomfort, but Doph simply lets out a small grunt. “Oh, Maker. You take it so easily. How many cocks have you had over the years, boy?”  
         “Dunno. Thousands? Lost track. Don’t always pay the closest attention.”  
         “Oh yes, that reminds me, Hux. He’s an addict.”  
         The general has to ask, “To what?”  
         Doph shrugs unabashedly. If he’s not shy about whoring, why feel that way about his drug use? “Mostly painkillers. But also stims and sedatives. Whatever works, really. I’m not picky.”  
         That would go a long way to explaining the high-risk behaviour, Hux supposes as he withdraws. “Turn over,” he instructs. “On your hands and knees.” Once Doph has followed his instructions, Hux inquires, “Tell me, are you high now?”  
         “Does it matter? I’m not here for the sparkling conversation.”  
         Ren breaks his way back into the repartee. “No. You’re here to get pounded and loaded with our come for cash.”  
         Hux glances at the knight, surprised again. “Oh, we can…?”  
         “Indeed. I paid the little extra fee he demands in order to be our come-dump for the night.” He smiles down beatifically at the boy who’s arching his back as Hux takes him slowly and deeply. “He really doesn’t think very highly of himself. Just twenty credits each to pump him full.”  
         “Fifteen for the redhead,” the whore clarifies in a bright tone.  
         “What?" Ren cries in disbelief. “There's a ginger discount but not a break for a loyal customer like me?”  
         “Can’t trust you,” Doph hisses through clenched teeth as Hux increases his speed. “The first time you almost didn’t pay it. Then you threatened to rape and kill me.”  
         Hux lets out a gasp dripping with false horror. “He _didn’t_. Really, Ren. Where are your manners?”  
         Kylo shrugs. “I was only making a point. Don’t hold it against me if he doesn’t appreciate context.” He watches Hux break into a light sweat while working the whore over, listens to the general hum and murmur contentedly.  
         “Maker. I've never had a whore. But I like it, because I know you can take anything I care to give. Fuck. Take it.” The redhead’s words turn to grunts, then one long shout as his second release hits. “Good boy,” he pants in conclusion, and lands a reassuring smack on Doph’s ass.  
         “Give him here, Hux.” Kylo stands between Doph’s legs. “Get on your knees and spread yourself open, bitch. I want to see what he gave you.”  
         Obediently, the boy reaches back and pries his cheeks apart. Meanwhile, the redhead lazily stretches out on the other side of the bed and lights a fresh cigarette.  
         “Beautiful. Filthy.” Ren slips two fingers inside and brings them back slick with the general’s come. Wiping it across the head of his leaking cock, he slams inside. Despite all the work Hux did to widen him up, Doph still shudders and grips the bedsheets. “Fuck, Hux, I can feel the mess you left in here. Is this how it works at parties, fuck-boy? Taking one load after another until it’s running down your legs?” Of course he knows, he’s seen the video and the memories, but he wants Hux to hear about it.  
         “Yes.”  
         “Do they line up to fill the little come dumpster they rented?” Doph nods, but Kylo spanks him for that. “Answer me aloud.”  
         “Of course they do, you moron.”  
         Hearing this back-talk, Kylo continues to smack his cheeks. He hopes the boy will bruise; he wants it to hurt when Doph sits down tomorrow. Of course, spending the night reaming his ass will help with that. “You know, my own name-day is coming up. I should have an event. You can be the party favour.”  
         Doph snorts. “You have enough friends for that?”  
         “Shut up. There are six other Knights of Ren. Four are male.”  
         “A total of six is hardly noteworthy,” Doph says with a scoff.  
         “Well, Hux has an entire army under his command. How many male officers on the bridge team, General?”  
         “Fifty eight.”  
         Never mind the fact that approximately zero percent of the _Finalizer’s_ staff would willingly attend an event thrown by Lord Ren. He keeps going with the hypothetical scenario. “Would sixty four be ‘noteworthy’?”  
         “It would kill me, Ren.”  
         “What better way for you to go, then? Fucked right into the next world.”  
         “There is no next world,” Doph announces. “Just this bloody pointless one.”  Ren hears him silently add, _Besides, a tar overdose would be a much more pleasant way to go._  
         Hux makes a tsk-ing sound of disappointment. “Come now. Don’t be so depressing. I thought hookers were supposed to act cheerful.”  
         At that, Doph turns around and shows a fake grin to the general. “See?” he says, pointing at the forced rictus on his face. “No bad feelings here.”  
         “Quit flirting,” Ren orders and makes further conversation close to impossible by drilling the boy’s ass as fast as he can. He doesn’t care about lasting, now that he’s come out of the closet about the Force and can use it to go again. Grabbing hold of Doph’s shoulders, he sends his seed to mix with Hux’s.  
         After Kylo pulls out, Doph stretches his limbs and moves to leave the bed.  
         “Where are you going?” Hux huffs, cigarette finished and dick in hand, ready for a third round.  
         “I need a kriffing break, General Asshat!” Doph snaps. It isn’t the most imaginative insult, but it’s fun to say.  
         “For what?”  
         “A fucking dose, if you have to know! I don’t have the energy to keep going without some glitter at least.”  
         “You brought drugs with you?” Hux’s voice is coldly furious. “Into my quarters, however temporary they may be?” Doph shrugs, but the usually defiant gesture is suddenly rather timid. The general grabs him by the chin. “How dare you. You really are a miserable piece of trash, aren’t you? Aren’t you.” He spits into the boy’s face.  
         The whore nods pathetically, spittle dripping down his cheek. “I just… please, I need it.”  
         “Why?” Hux asks icily.  
         Doph snaps, trying to claw his way out of Hux’s grasp. “Why? Because it’s all I fucking have, alright? It’s the only thing that keeps me from…” Here he pauses to suck in a breath before continuing, as though he’s rewording the rest of the sentence. “From falling apart.”  
         But Kylo couldn’t help but overhear what he’d wanted to say instead: _From killing myself._  
         “Haven’t you already? You’re getting fucked bare by strangers for money.”  
         The boy snorts. “I’ve been doing that since I was twelve. Nothing new.” Hux gapes at this admission, and Doph turns on him. “Oh, yes. And I’ve never fucked for free. It’s my only commodity, right? So how could I give it away?” He frowns. “I know I’m not exactly tight or fresh anymore. That means I hafta keep doing increasingly filthy shit to attract customers. Which brings me here. Collared and tag-teamed by two goddamn fascists. Assholes who outlaw my profession but don’t hesitate to call on it when you’re desperate to get off.” He gasps for breath and a panic sets in as he realises he’s gone entirely too far. “Please, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Just let me take a quick hit and I’ll be good.” Glancing over his shoulder, he’s startled to discover that Kylo is standing right behind him, silent and threatening. Doph hangs his head, awaiting their judgement. “Please.”  
         The knight takes a moment to savour Doph’s fears. He’s scared that Hux will flush his drugs down the commode, forcing him to go out after this and take whatever unfair deal he’s offered. There’s a sudden flash of terror when he thinks, _They could kidnap me and turn me into their slave. Which wouldn’t be so bad, ’cept I’d detox… and get so sick. And then when I’m not sick anymore, there won’t be anything left. I’m just a pile of bad memories patched together at the seams by multiple chemicals. Nothing worthwhile._  
          This act of snooping gives Kylo Ren a sudden insight into addiction, seeing that Doph’s angst isn’t about his own safety, or even his life. It’s the jarring dread of being without drugs, an existence devoid of incentive, reward, or consolation.   
         To quiet these thoughts, Kylo puts a hand on each of Doph’s shoulders and gently murmurs, “I’m not sure stims are your best option right now. Did you bring something that will help calm you down instead?”  
         Doph sighs. “Guess you’re right. And yeah, I do.”  
         Gently, Kylo guides him by the waist and turns him towards the fresher. “Go on, then. But don’t take too long.”  
         Ten minutes later, Doph lounges against the doorframe and smirks. “Well. Whose turn is it now? Hux again?” His voice and body language are playful, but his eyes are cold and distant. Kylo can’t decide if it’s attractive or off-putting.  
         But either way, he’s hard as hell.  
         Hux, on the other hand, seems to be feeling no qualms of his own. He’s standing by Doph, pawing the boy’s chest, pulling at his nipples. The redhead leans in for a kiss, but Doph puts his hand up, making an improvised barrier between their mouths.  
         “I don’t do that,” he explains.  
         “No?” Hux asks with a grin and is answered with a firm headshake. “How much to change your mind?” Everything is negotiable, he knows—one simply needs to find the price break and apply sufficient pressure.  
         “I. Don’t. Kiss.”  
         Hux’s smile turns predatory as he grabs Doph by the shoulders and slams him back against the nearest wall. “Too bloody bad,” he murmurs, then attacks the breathless boy’s mouth with his own.  
         Kylo doesn’t think he’s ever seen something that’s typically tame be so violent. The kiss the general is forcing on the rentboy borders on assault, even on rape. When Hux pulls back, Kylo can see Doph’s eyeliner running down his face. The boy is crying. From a kiss. “I hate you,” he chokes.  
         “You hate yourself,” Hux hazards a guess.  
         Doph slides down the wall onto the floor, hands tugging on his already disheveled hair. “Wouldn’t you?”  
         “I… I don’t know. I’ve no idea what you’ve been through.”  
         “I was pretty and poor and alone. You do the math, General. I know you’re not a fool.” He gulps down air. “Shit, I’m gonna need another tab.”  
         Hux rises. “Let me fetch your bag.” Popping into the fresher, he returns with the small satchel and has Doph point out what he needs. Crouching down by the boy on the floor, he feeds him a pill. “Sh. Breathe.” Slowly, Doph returns to his usual self. He wipes his nose in the crook of an elbow and his baseline sneer reappears.  
         “What happened to you? Where’s your family?”  
         Doph shrugs. “Parents shot in a drive-by back when I was too small to remember. Older brother used to take care of me. When I hit twelve he started selling me out ’cuz I wasn’t picking pockets well enough.”  
         “Oh.”  
         “It happens. Anyway, eventually I got fed up with him taking more’n half my credits, so I left. Rented a room to work out of, became a free agent.”  
         “How old were you when you went out on your own?”  
         “Fourteen. Back then I could still charge a good amount and not have to do much craziness.” He misses being able to demand a premium due to his age. Despite laws and taboos, he’d never wanted for customers back then.  
         “The first man who... rented you. What was he like?”  
         Doph’s face screws up for the briefest of moments, but now he’s too drugged to maintain the grimace. “Not gentle. No lube, just spit. And then blood. Mine, of course.”  
         Kylo wonders why Hux is insisting on doing this, on having this conversation. He himself doesn’t want to overhear Doph’s story; he’d already figured it had to be depressing enough without knowing the details. But the general is carding through the boy’s hair, making soothing sounds. “And you’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend? No real relationships?”  
         “No. Used to have a few tricks who liked to pretend I was theirs, took me out to dinner and bought me things. But that was a while ago. Now I’m lucky if some old pervert buys me a new plug.”  
         Doph’s makeup is smudged and Hux thinks it’s the prettiest, most vulnerable thing he’s seen in years. “Such a shame. A waste of a beautiful boy. And you _are_ still beautiful, even though you’re a wreck.”  
         Giving a light huff, the whore doesn’t speak a word. Kylo can hear him think, _Fuck you_ and _Thank you_ all at the same time.  
         The two men share a cigarette, passing it back and forth while the redhead continues to question the whore about his past. Hux settles a hand on Doph’s knee. “When did you begin using?”  
         “Oh, I was drinking at the very start. A few shots before the first date of the night. That’s what I used to call my appointments. Started spending my free time with other working boys and girls, ’cuz they were the only people I had much in common with. Some of them turned me on to glitter. Then…” His voice hitches.  
         “Then?” Hux prompts gently.  
         “Then I was beaten for the first time. I was sixteen. He was much older. Rough. Hit me while he fucked me, then refused to pay. And threw me out of his speeder at 50 kph.” He sucks down a drag and hands the cigarette back to the general. “Woke up in hospital. Stayed a few days. Left with a script for seven days’ worth of painkillers. Finished ’em in three. Needed more, or wanted more, doesn’t really matter which. Discovered tar, which is much cheaper and hits harder.” He laughs humourlessly. “After that, I learned that adding it to the glitter, I could handle more customers in an evening. Those extra credits paid for my new habits.” A shrug. “But it made me less choosy. Started doing fetish work. Taking couples. Teaming up with friends and doing parties. Found out I could handle a lotta pain.”  
         Hux stares at his own hands, then whispers, “I think I’d like to—”  
         In his head, Doph finishes the sentence the only ways he can imagine:  
_—Find out just how much pain you can handle._  
_—Pound another load into you._  
         “—kiss you again.”  
         His brain does a double-take at the words arriving through his ears. “What? Really?” There’s a fluttering sensation in his stomach he can’t identify because he hasn’t felt it before.  
         The redhead looks at him with open longing, and Doph melts when he nods, says, “Really.” Hux leans over and when their lips meet this time, it’s soft.  
         Ren watches, surprised by the general. With the way Hux had spoken to Doph earlier when he’d been inside him, and the type of kiss he’d forced on him, the knight never would have expected this. But there had been some sort of turning point when Doph had shared that bitter memory of his first trick. Ren had seen it on Hux’s face, a softening look of something approaching pity, an expression he’d never have guessed the man was capable of.


	4. Date

Doph is nursing a drink at his regular bar when his comm unit buzzes. It’s an incoming call, which surprises him. Very few of his customers want to talk—they generally contact him in text to arrange an appointment. (Are you free? When and where?)  
         “Yes?” he answers, feeling nervous.  
         “It’s Hux. Ren gave me your number, I hope you don’t mind.”  
         “Not at all. What are you looking for?”  
         “I have the evening free. Would you care to join me in my temporary quarters?”  
         Tapping his fingertips on the counter, Doph asks, “Will Ren be there?” To be honest, he’s rather hoping to be alone with the general and feeling vaguely guilty at the thought. After all, Ren is the established customer, and the one who introduced him to Hux.  
         “Not unless you’d like to invite him.”  
         “Let’s just us, then. When should I come by?”  
         “Any time after 1930.”  
         “Should I bring anything?” He couldn’t explain why he asked this—the question just came out of his mouth, as though he’d been invited to a dinner party. He’s never been to such an event, but somehow Hux has him trying to be on his best behaviour.  
         “Just your pretty, slutty body. How much will this cost me?”  
         “Depends on what you want. We can discuss price when I get there.” Usually he doesn’t leave this talk until the last moment—he’s learned that once inside a customer’s doorstep, the other party can apply unexpected pressure—but he doesn’t foresee any such issues with the redhead.

 

 

As soon as the door slides open, Hux pulls Doph inside and gives him an immediate kiss on the lips.  
         “Thanks for coming. Would you like something to eat? There’s dinner if you want it.”  
         “Yes.” As if politeness were an afterthought—which it may well be—he adds, “Please.”  
         Hux gestures to the small table in the kitchenette. “Have a seat. It’s good to see you again.”  
         “Same to you, Hux.”  
         Oddly enough, the general appreciates the way his rank doesn’t pull any weight with Doph. As far as this boy is concerned, he’s just Hux—a redheaded male, another customer who requires servicing. In return, Doph is very little to Hux. It’s all so simple. And Hux finds it the whole dynamic very intriguing. “Mind if I ask you about your career while you eat?”  
         “Not at all. As long as I can eat in the meantime.”  
         The general pours himself a cup of tea and takes the seat across from the boy. “Deal. How much do you charge for a blowjob?”  
         “Forty.”  
          _That’s it?_ Hux wonders. He’s had unremarkable meals that cost more. “And for sex?”  
         “Starts at a hundred, but that includes prep with my mouth.”  
         Fascinated, Hux leans in, hands on his knees. “What are some of those add-ons that Ren mentioned?”  
         “What, you want a menu with pricing?”  
         The general reflects on this sarcastic comment before deciding it’s worth answering. “Yes, why not?”  
         Doph launches down the list in between spoonfuls. “Ten credits will get you rimmed or let you spank me. Well, real light spanking is free. Fifteen credits: water-sports and choking. Restraints cost you twenty if I can’t get out of ’em myself. So does bare-backing and breeding. And they all stack.”  
         “Do you do DP?”  
         The boy sighs, sounding sadly resigned. “Yeah, of course. But I need at least an hour’s warning so I can take a painkiller and muscle relaxant beforehand. And that costs two-fifty, the cost of two individual fucks plus a perversion fee.”  
         “But you don’t kiss.”  
         “Not willingly,” Doph says pointedly to remind Hux of the circumstances under which the general had first kissed him. “I used to, early on. As part of the whole BFE.” Seeing Hux’s raised eyebrow, he explains. “Boyfriend Experience. Y’know, you call it a date, go to dinner, have a conversation like you’re not being paid, all the while knowing you are and it’s a lie and the night’s going to end like any other. With him telling you exactly what he wants and taking it.”  
         “Oh.” Hux stirs honey into his tea. “That sounds exhausting.”  
         “That’s why I don’t do it anymore. Besides, in all that time I could have at least three appointments in place of one.”  
         “What about safety? How do you handle that, besides charging a bit more? Because neither Ren nor I wore condoms with you.”  
         “Well, at least you’re military. You have pretty much constant screenings, right?”  
         “True, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t have recently picked something up on shore leave that we’re still being treated for. Or one of those emerging diseases that have no treatment.”  
         “It’s a lower risk than with civilians, though. Or the Resistance.” He snorts.  
         “Is that so?”  
         Dopheld laughs. “They have all the disadvantages of your soldiers—arrogance and machismo—without the benefits. Like good medical care.”  
         “Not a supporter of the democratic uprising, then?” Hux teases. He wasn’t expecting to discuss politics with the whore, but that’s where the conversation has gone.  
         “I don’t see what’s so democratic about it when they have to hide in caves and only sneak out to bomb shit.” He watches Hux laugh as well, enjoying the way it colours his cheeks pink. “But I used to insist on condoms.”  
         “What changed?”  
         “Honestly? Drugs. My first regular dealer used to give me a discount if I blew him whenever he came by. Which might have been the reason he never seemed to carry as much as I wanted at one time.”  
         Hux nods, giving Doph credit for this insight. He supposes the boy’s line of work has made interpersonal politicking a very useful skill. Reading people could be the difference between business and a skipped meal, or a generous tip and a beating.  
         “Then he offered an even better deal to fuck me bare. Stuck to my guns for a while, but in the end, I figured I might as well save myself some credits. Then I decided that I could drop that requirement for certain customers, the ones I liked a bit more, and charge extra.”  
         “And the fee for coming inside you?”  
         “That followed pretty naturally. First I was insisting that customers pull out and only come on me or in my mouth. But several guys came inside me ‘on accident’, acting like they didn’t realise they were so close. Then I just outlined it as a charge item first. Since then, no one has _accidentally_ done that.”  
         “Shocking.”  
         “It is.”  
         “Have you ever had an STI?”  
         Doph looks at him wearily. “Of course. At least there’s a clinic nearby where I can get treated on a sliding scale. And I haven’t caught anything they couldn’t treat.” He pushes his bowl into the centre of the table. “That was much better than I expected from military rations.”  
         Hux chuckles. “I’m a general. The senior officers have their own cooking staff.”  
         “I see. Privileges of rank.”  
         “Indeed.” Hux flips open his cigarette case, takes one for himself, and slides the container over towards Doph. “Also, these don’t come from the commissary, either.” After a measured Inhalation, he states, “Here’s what I’d like from you tonight. Start me off with a blowjob, then follow it up with a nice, long fuck. Bare, of course, including finishing inside you.”  
         “That’s it?”  
         “That’s it.”  
         “When you say ‘long’, though, what do you mean?”  
         “Probably an hour.” The general watches Doph’s face, sees he’s about to negotiate, and heads him off. “I’ll pay two hundred fifty for taking more than my share of time.”  
         The boy’s mouth opens a bit, then he’s nodding with a smile. “Deal.”  
         Hux suspects he could have gotten away with a lower figure, but he doesn’t care. Money isn’t the issue.

 

True to his word, Hux is lasting a long time, and Doph isn’t sure whether it’s because he’s pacing himself or because something is missing.  
         “Hux?” he speaks up. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”  
         The general sighs. “No. Just keep being such a good lay.”  
         Despite this assurance, Doph moves to raise his ass further. The increased dip in his spine will make his back ache soon, but so would his previous position if Hux doesn’t finish soon.  
         “Actually…” the redhead says in a hopeful voice.  
         “Yes?”  
         “Do you happen to have any glitter with you?”  
         Doph laughs—not a quick chuckle or bark, either, but a full, natural laugh. Looking back at the general, he has to ask, “Really? You want a line?”  
         Hux shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s been a while. I do remember sex being amazing on it, though. Oh, and I’ll reimburse you for whatever I take, of course.”  
         The boy nods. “Sure. Guess I’ll have some, too. Especially if you’re gonna be all wound up.” He’s learned that mismatched energy levels translate into him ending up unnecessarily exhausted.  
         Hux eases out with a sigh. “Ah, I hate to leave your arse, though.”  
         “Won’t take long. Promise.” Doph hops off the bed and grabs his jacket to begin emptying its pockets onto the nearby desk as Hux stands over his shoulder.  
         “What are all these?” the general asks, pointing to various packets and small vials. He’s fascinated by the way Doph doesn’t bother to hide his habits. Hux has known more than a few addicts in his time, but they’ve all been surreptitious if not outright underhanded about it. Although that might have been a product of the fact that they would have received dishonourable discharges—or at least significant reprimands—had those issues come to light.  
         “Oh.” The whore gestures to each one in turn. “Benzo. Muscle relaxant. Boner pills for older gentlemen and nervous types. Another benzo. Nitrate inhalant. Various opiates, um, that’s morphine and the others are codeine and hydromorphone. Amphetamines. And here’s what we need tonight.”  
         “Where are your syringes?”  
         Startled, the boy bristles and asks, “How do you know I do that?” He remembers telling Hux that he uses tar, but not how he goes about it.  
         So it seems Hux has finally hit on a subject that makes Doph uncomfortable. There’s something about injectable drug use that is undeniably stigmatised. No one shoots tar recreationally for long; it quickly becomes a clear disorder. “I can see the insides of your elbows have multiple healed puncture marks and rectangular pink patches. From using bacta pads to prevent infection and keep your veins from collapsing.”  
         Doph visibly draws up. This isn’t something he likes to talk about. “Yeah. I keep my kit at home. Usually it’s a bedtime thing.” _(Too much glitter? Too many men? Death looking particularly attractive tonight? No worry: tar will sort it all out for you.)_  
         “Do you share needles?” Hux asks, concern apparent in his voice.  
         “No. I don’t even reuse my own. The clinic’s got an exchange program.”  
         “Good.” It’s not his place to lecture, but he doesn’t like the thought of Doph dying from such a preventable cause. There are much better uses for him alive. “Alright, onwards and upwards.”  
         They each take a line before Hux is slicking himself up again. Lying Doph on his back and sliding inside, Hux shuts his eyes. This is what was missing, the frisson of a dopamine flood on top of desire. This will help the general keep certain instincts buried, at least for a little longer. Because he isn’t ready; because he hasn’t fully prepared the boy yet. But when Hux finally lets himself go, it’ll be that much sweeter.  
         After several minutes, Doph climbs on top of the redhead and rides him expertly. “So good, Hux. So kriffing good.”  
         The general squints and peers up at him. “Part of the act?” he asks, panting lightly.  
         “No, it’s not. You’re reminding me why I liked dick in the first place.” A thought comes unbidden to him, then. He wonders what it would be like to take Hux. He hasn’t had many bottom customers in the past few years, and to be honest he’s not very versatile. But for this man… Doph thinks he’d love to get inside him. To fuck the redheaded general without a scrap of reservation; the way everyone fucks _him_.  
         “You’re just saying that because you’re high.”  
         Perhaps, but he’d still be thinking it were he sober. “Doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it. Fuck. I could take your dick forever, not need anyone else’s.”  
         Hux smiles up at him. “What about Lord Ren?” he inquires in a lightly mocking voice. He’s not sure how much of a size queen the whore is, but Ren is certainly well-endowed. Besides, the knight seems to have developed a bit of a soft spot for Doph.  
         “Hell with Lord Ren. Hell with everyone else.” And Doph lets himself fantasise about this. He’s had a few friends quit to become kept men and women. He’s certain he could do it for Hux. Just laze around the general’s quarters all day until he returned at the end of a shift to fuck him. Maybe the ship has a dispensary that could keep him on maintenance therapy. He knows it’s a stupid thought, but he can daydream. “Only you and me, Hux.”  
         “You’d do that? Quit to become mine?” This is better than Hux had suspected.  
         “Yes. Yes. Don’t care if you have other boys. Just… keep me.”  
         The conversation is going so well that Hux would be able to finish soon. He decides to hold off. “Get up and put your mouth on me,” he orders. He’s never asked anyone to do this, much less insisted on it. But Doph just eases off him and ducks his head down without hesitation or comment. “Maker, you filthy thing.” Although that isn’t really fair, considering that the whore is just following his directions. _The customer is always right._ “No wonder this is illegal.” He’s referring to prostitution, of course. Lothal isn’t among the many localities that penalise homosexual acts.  
         Doph’s eyes flicker up to meet Hux’s. The general tries to determine whether this is a glare, but shrugs it off.  
         “Alright. Lie down on your back.” He wants to watch himself fuck Doph. “Legs up.” After he slides back inside, he asks, “How many men fucked you yesterday?”  
         “Five.”  
         For some reason, Hux keeps asking questions. Doph’s work deeply intrigues him, and he appreciates the honest responses. “And how many today?”  
         “Only one before I got your call.”  
         “Will you see customers after me?”  
         “Planning on it.”  
         “How many can you take in a day?”  
         “Current record is nineteen.”  
         Hux’s eyes widen and he lets out a low whistle. “Maker. How did you find the time?”  
         Doph gives a crooked smile. “Gangbang. I was a graduation party bottom.”  
         The general has to bite down on his lower lip to distract himself from a flood of excitement. “Oh, I’d love to see that.” He wonders how much it would take to truly wreck this boy—apparently much more than most. It's highly promising.   
         “Invite me over again and I’ll bring the holotape.”  
         “Please do,” Hux pants, feeling sweat pool on his collarbone. His hair must be an utter mess by now.  
         Doph closes his eyes for a few moments, as though he’s happy to simply feel Hux’s body against and inside his. “Ren enjoyed it.”  
         With a twisted smile, Hux asks, “He fucked you whilst watching you take nineteen men?”  
         “Yeah. Do you wanna?”  
         “Of course I do, Doph.” He sighs. “What a thought. I’m close.”  
          Dark eyes hopeful, the boy asks, “Can I come too?”  
         The general nods his approval and adds, “I insist.” Watching the whore jerk himself quickly, Hux continues to pound away at his hole. “I want to feel your climax from inside.” And that’s what pulls him right over the edge, the clenching muscles around him and the sound of his name being gasped aloud.

 

Unexpectedly, Hux finds himself wondering how Ren fucks Doph when they’re alone together. He turns to the young man sprawled across his bed. “What do you do with Ren?”  
         “The usual.”  
         The general wants more specifics than this. “What is he like?”  
         “You know he’s huge. He likes to talk. Mostly teasing and insults. He doesn’t say the nicest things, but I’m not sure he means them. I think he likes fighting for its own sake.”  
         Hux can see this very clearly; he lacks evidence that Ren knows any non-confrontational method of interaction. “Does he take his time?”  
         “Not usually. Not like you.”  
         “Well, he’s young,” Hux allows generously.  
         “Older than me, though.”  
         “Only chronologically. He grew up with enormous privilege.”  
         “And you didn’t?” Doph’s tone is inquisitive, not accusatory. Everyone who pays for his time is better off than he is—that’s just trickle-down economics.  
         “I was raised in between worlds,” Hux shares. “I’m a bastard. My father was influential, my mother was not. She didn’t even have a family name to give me, which is why I have his despite my illegitimacy.”  
         “But you grew up with her?”  
         “Only until I reached the age of ten, when my father realised his wife wasn’t going to give him a better option. He groomed me to succeed him. What I did was surpass him by the time I was twenty five.”  
         “Why aren’t you married?”  
         The general chuckles. “How do you know I’m not?” He lets the question drop. “You’re correct, though. I negotiated with a few potential spouses, but the talks never got very far. It’s amazing how many women lose interest after you say, ‘I’m fully committed to my career, you’ll hardly ever see me, and when you do, there won’t be any sex. If you want children from me, you’ll have to get intimate with a pipette after I spend some time alone with gay porn.’”  
         Laughing, Dopheld agrees, “No, that isn’t very romantic.” Not that he’d know what romance looked like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Substance use! Unsafe sex! Brief discussion of politics!


	5. Test Run

(Significant chapter warnings in the notes.)

 

Standing outside one of his regular bars in the descending dark, Doph is halfway through a smoke when his com bleeps rhythmically. It’s Hux. Of course it is; no one else actually calls him.  
         “I’d like to see you tonight,” the general announces without preamble.  
         “Yeah, sure. When?”  
         “After you’re done for the evening.”  
         “That might be late.”  
         “I don’t mind. But I don’t want you to freshen up beforehand. Also, bring what you need to stay the night.”  
         Doph drops his cigarette in shock. “I don’t do that.” He leans forward, looking to see where the smoke rolled and if it might still be salvageable. With the taxes on these things rising every year, he doesn’t have the cash to go around losing them in gutters.  
         A chuckle filters through the speaker. “You also don’t kiss, remember? You’ve already broken rules for me. Besides, I’ll make it worth your while, monetarily speaking.” When Doph doesn’t answer right away, he names a figure. “Would seven hundred work for you?”  
         “Shit,” Doph whispers. “Yeah, yeah, sure I’ll stay.” Tomorrow morning he’ll be able to stock up with as many cartons of cigarettes as he has space for in his cupboard.  
         “Bring the recording, too.”

 

“Welcome,” Hux says, stooping to place a kiss on Doph’s cheek. “Come in.” As the boy warned, it is indeed quite late: 0230, but the general has nothing planned until the evening.  
         Doph drops his duffel bag on the floor inside the doorway. “I brought you a present.” He pulls the tape out of a jacket pocket. “Not so much a present as a promise,” he clarifies.  
         “Mm, good.” Hux gestures to the video player with his wine glass. “Go ahead and put it on.” While his guest is inserting the holotape and adjusting the projection frame, Hux pours a second glass of wine for him. Handing it off, the general settles on the couch and hits Play. He allows Doph to take a few sips from his glass before snapping and pointing to his crotch. “Get me hard,” he orders. “Yes, just like that. I’ve never been sucked off whilst watching porn, much less had the star of the show do it for me.”  
         Taking a pause, Doph responds, “I bet Kylo would’ve done it for you.”  
         Hux shrugs. “I’m also sure you’re better at it. And you’re not going to cry when I don’t want to hold you after.”  
         While Doph works Hux’s dick, he wonders if the reason the general hasn’t had sex with Lord Ren is an avoidance of emotional attachment. Not that he blames Hux for that: Doph’s entire life has been spent avoiding connections that could tie him down. Even family and friends have been ephemeral, fading into and out of existence as convenience allows. Caring about people makes it that much more painful when they eventually vanish—and eventually, everyone vanishes.

 

Hux enjoys Doph’s mouth for a good twenty minutes before pulling out and patting the cushion beside him. He wants to talk. “How many men did you take tonight?”  
         Narrowing his eyes as he thinks back, Doph answers, “Five blowjobs, three fucks.” He sighs. “And one blowjob was free. Fuckin’ cops,” he mutters with an eye roll.  
         “Bribe?”  
         “Yeah.”  
         Changing the subject from public corruption to a more enjoyable topic, Hux inquires, “Tell me, how many loads can you swallow before you start to feel sick?”  
         “Depends how much time there is between ‘em and the volume of come. Right in a row, maybe four? But this,” he indicates the video with his thumb, “was over several hours, so it was fine. Also, benzos help with nausea.”  
         “How high were you the night this was recorded?”  
         “Oh,” the boy laughs freely. “I was good and fucked up. Morphine, alprazolam, plenty of glitter.”  
         “High now?”  
         Doph shrugs. “Only a little. It’s starting to wear off.”  
         “Alright, if you’re getting tired, why don’t you get on your hands and knees and let me take you from behind?”  
         The boy nods gratefully. “Sure thing.”  
         Reaching for the lubricant, Hux slicks himself up while Doph gets into position. He crouches facing the screen as he did with Kylo, because he wants to watch what Hux is enjoying so much. Unlike Kylo, Hux doesn’t want him to skip ahead. They watch the entire video without interruption. By the eleventh tic mark on Doph’s body, Hux is moved to share his appreciative critique.  
         “Fuck,” he breathes. “I’d kill for a close-up at this point. You must be utterly soaked.”  
         “Yeah, I was. You shoulda seen it, by the time I left there was a fuckin’ puddle on the floor.”  
         Hux groans. “Filthy. I would’ve made you lick it up before letting you go home.” He would’ve held the boy’s head down to the floor if necessary.  
         Doph is panting loudly. “Oh god, oh god. Please go harder.”  
         “Is that what you want?” Hux asks, voice so low it’s almost a growl. His teeth flash as he grasps Doph’s hair in a fist and orders, “Then _beg_ for it. And call me ‘sir’.”  
         “Yes, sir. Please give it to me harder. General, _please_.”  
         The redhead smirks. “I like the sound of that.” Still, he doesn’t much increase the intensity of his movements.  
         “Fuck, then why aren’t you pounding me, sir?”  
         Chuckling, the general answers, “Because I want to hear true desperation first.”  
         “You’re a fuckin’ sadist,” Doph pants.  
          _You have no idea_ , Hux thinks. “I can drag this out for another hour, darling. Is that what you want?”  
         Pathetically Doph whines, “No, please don’t. Please, General. Fuck, I need it more than anything. More than drugs, even. I swear, sir, I’d get clean for you.”  
         There it is: the cracking timbre of a voice one step away from tears. Coupled with the declaration that satisfying Hux is at the top of the whore’s priorities. It’s perfect. “Oh, Doph. Good boy.” Hux clamps down on both of Doph’s shoulders and tilts upward as hard and fast as possible. “Now beg me to fill you up. The way everyone else does.”  
         “No… Not like everyone else. It’s different with you. I really want it.”  
         Doph has neglected to say “sir,” but Hux can’t find it within himself to care about that lapse as he sends his release as deep as it will go.

 

As they lie in bed smoking before he decides he needs to clean himself off, Doph asks, “How old are you, anyway?”  
         “Thirty five,” answers the general. “Not too old for you, am I?”  
         Doph scoffs at the mere suggestion. “Please. I’m sure the oldest I’ve had was seventy something.”  
         The general brushes Doph’s hair out of his eyes, leaving his hand to linger on the boy’s cheek. “I meant as more than a customer.”  
         “Oh. I’ve never had more than a customer.”  
         “I recognise that what we talked about while I was in you was couched in fantasy. However, might you have any interest in signing on with the Order? I’d love to have you around to use whenever I please.”  
         “I didn’t know General’s Whore was an official position.”  
         “No, but Petty Officer/Adjutant is. You would need to be sober, though.”  
         Flicking ash off his cigarette into the tray resting on Hux’s chest, Doph says, “I’d never pass the psych screening.”  
         “Not if you were honest, no,” Hux agrees. “But I wasn’t in mine.” _(Have you ever injured a romantic or sexual partner? Do you take pleasure in the pain of others? Do you fantasise about humiliating those who have wronged you?)_  
         With a quiet snort, Doph explains, “It would become pretty obvious that I’ve got a problem once I started detoxing.”  
         Hux taps his lips thoughtfully. “Ah, it’s that bad, then?”  
         “Going off tar won’t kill you, but ask anyone who’s done it once. They’d do anything to avoid a second round.” In fact, for some addicts it’s the main reason for staying clean. Fear is one hell of a motivator and sickness works wonders in conditioning.  
         “What’s it like?” Hux asks quietly.  
         “Well, I’ve been lucky and never gone without it more than a few days at a time. But even so I’ve gotten body aches, fever and chills, diarrhoea. The longer it goes, the worse all that gets. Soon you start throwing up on top of it. Lose all your liquids. Headaches, chills, trembling, nose running, constant crying. Can’t keep food or water down. Wearing clothes hurts. The only things that can stop it are death or more tar.” Darkly, he adds, “Some folks kill themselves.”  
         Without asking, Hux instantly knows Doph has lost at least one friend this way. “How long does it take to get through it?”  
         “About two weeks to flush all the sickness out.”  
         Hux’s brow wrinkles in thought and he inquires, “And there’s nothing to ease the process?”  
         “If you’ve got money, you can go into treatment. They keep you hydrated and give sedatives. Still not pleasant, but worlds away from white-knuckling it. The posh places give you some pharmaceutical version of tar, and slowly take you down. Of course, they make you talk about your _feelings_ all the while.” He shudders at the thought. “That just might be worse than the puking.”  
         “Does it take?”  
         “The cure?” Doph shrugs noncommittally. “No, not usually. Not so long as whatever started you using in the first place is still there to face you when you leave. And looked at sober, the galaxy can be a real shit-show.” He pops his knuckles. “So even if I had the money and connections to get help, the moment I stepped out of there I’d still be a worthless whore. And I have no interest in being sober on top of that knowledge.”  
         “You’re hardly worthless, Doph. I can’t stand having conversations with most people. But here I am, talking to you.”  
         “Yeah, why are you doing that?”  
         “Because I’m enjoying it,” he answers, surprised this isn’t apparent. It’s the only reason he does anything. He runs a cool hand down Doph’s spine. “I would rather like to keep you, though. Take you back to the _Finalizer_ and hide you away in my quarters. Would you go mad like that, I wonder? All alone, except for me and maybe Lord Ren?”  
         “No,” the boy answers quickly. “As long as I don’t withdraw.”  
         Hux hums, the cogs in his mind turning. “Do you think… Well, I have override codes throughout the ship.” Now that’s a thought: control Doph’s drugs, control the boy. While he has his own supply, he’s still something of a free man. Take that away, and Hux would have all the power he’d care to exercise. It’s quite tempting.  
         Doph turns to him and asks with a smile, “Are you offering to keep me drugged?”  
         “I’m offering to replace your cobbled-together pharmacopoeia with something safer.”  
         “Don’t trust my sketchy street meds to not be rat poison?”  
         Hux shakes his head emphatically. “No.”  
         “Neither do I.” He smiles slowly, shyly. “A few months back I got my hands on a supply that turned out to be much stronger than usual. Nearly overdid it.” Doph had spent a full thirty minutes staring at his reversal kit trying to decide if he was willing to go into instantaneous withdrawal or continue risking death from respiratory failure. In the end he’d waited it out.  
         “So come back with me.”  
         “They’d let you keep a personal whore?” Since there’s no way he could join the military properly.  
         The general’s eyes narrow in thought. “I’m co-commander of the ship with Lord Ren. I’m sure I can figure something out.”  
         “Won’t people know?”  
         “Oh, the more perceptive ones will _suspect_. But no one will dare actually say anything.” He leans over and kisses Doph’s cheek lightly. “We leave in two day cycles. Think about it.”  
         Nodding, the whore pulls another cigarette out of his pack. “I’ll think.” Cupping a hand around the flame of his sparker, he segues with, “So why did you ask me to stay?”  
         “Well, if I’m proposing to open my home to you, to share my quarters and life, I need to know whether I can comfortably sleep beside you.”  
         “Oh. I haven’t slept with anyone in years. I used to sometimes, when I was too exhausted to leave. Now I know not to lie down for too long.”  
         “Did you bring your gear with you?”  
         Doph looks away and blinks. “Yeah.”  
         “You can use it here. I don’t mind. I want you to be comfortable with me.” He recalls the way he’d spat in the boy’s face for carrying drugs with him that first night, and resolves to at least appear more understanding.  
         The boy sneaks a glance back at him to judge his sincerity. “Cuz I want to, you know,” he admits. “It’ll help me sleep.”  
         Hux watches as Doph ties off and injects himself, which is a fascinating process. Then Doph slumps back into the chair and sighs. Leaning down to kiss the boy’s shoulder, Hux removes the tourniquet and says, “Come to bed, sweetheart.”  
         “‘Sweetheart’?” Doph repeats, sounding skeptical.  
         “Yes.”  
         Doph shrugs and makes his way back to the mattress. “That night,” he mumbles with a vague wave before elaborating. “The graduation party. I ended up with the clap. It was my fourth time.”  
         “You’re lucky you haven’t contracted something incurable.” Hux says this while rubbing one of Doph’s shoulders soothingly.  
         They both know what Hux is talking about. Although there are a few chronic conditions, the one he’s referring to is acquired immune deficiency. Most strains are treatable, but the necessary medications would be prohibitively expensive for someone like Doph. “Yeah,” the boy agrees, sounding exhausted. “I know. Eventually I’ll get it. Then I’ll just OD on purpose. Perfect excuse, right?”  
         “Let’s see if we can’t avoid that, yes?” Hux suggests, easing Doph’s head onto a pillow. Once Doph is lying on his side, Hux pulls the sheet over him and tucks it under his hip. “Hey, Doph,” he says after a few minutes, testing the boy’s responsiveness. Doph doesn’t even stir. Good. Hux places a hand on Doph’s shoulder, and when the whore doesn’t twitch, he begins to drag his fingernails down his back. He admires the faint pink lines that appear, however temporarily. “I want to hurt you like no one else has done,” he murmurs in admission. “And I want you to love me for it.” He continues speaking, elaborating on fantasies that may eventually become reality if he plays his cards right. After several minutes, he’s so hard he can’t keep going without touching himself. And once he’s wrapped a hand around his cock and begun stroking it, he knows it won’t be enough. He pulls the blanket down and turns Doph onto his stomach.  
         “I’ve never fucked an unconscious man,” he whispers as he straddles Doph’s legs. One arm outstretched, he pumps lube into a palm. But he only applies it to himself, then spreads Doph’s cheeks and slides in. “Fuck, that’s nice. And right now, you don’t need to pretend you like it—but that doesn’t matter, anyway. Oh, Doph. I think this might be rape.” The word spoken aloud prompts him to thrust deeper and harder. “Yes. Yes, you pitiful thing. I’ll make you mine. I’m not going to last, sweetheart. But it’s not as though you’ll mind, right?” He scrapes his nails down Doph’s back in earnest as he bucks into him, wishing he could draw blood. “Maker, Doph. You utter piece of trash.” On the last word, he begins to climax. Despite the short onset, it lasts longer than usual, and Hux knows it’s because of his position of power.  
         Eventually, Doph won’t have to be unconscious for this sort of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings:  
> -Undisclosed sadism  
> -Complete lack of kink negotiation  
> -Non-con: Penetration of an unconscious person
> 
> Non-warnings:  
> -Find me on tumblr @asherephraim


	6. Last Night

At the doorway to Doph’s apartment, Kylo begins with, “We’re leaving in the morning.” He’s staring resolutely at the floor because he doesn’t want to see the look in the rentboy’s eyes showing that he doesn’t care.  
         “Yeah, I heard. You wanted one last hurrah?”  
         In a low voice, Kylo says, “Something like that.” He lifts his gaze enough to see that Doph is already shirtless, and his pulse speeds accordingly.  
         With an exaggerated sweeping gesture, Doph welcomes the knight into his dingy home. “How may I serve you, My Lord?” he asks, smirking through the false groveling.  
         “On your knees would be an excellent start.” Kylo takes a seat in the only chair—its leather is cracked and once it was quite nice—and Doph settles between his legs. Hands in the boy’s hair, he replays how Hux had used Doph’s mouth the night they’d shared him. But try as he might, he can’t remain as composed as the general. “Gods, Doph,” he moans quietly, listening to the boy choke him down. “Just a little more, I swear.” Panting, he releases Doph from his grasp. “Thank you,” he whispers gratefully as the whore coughs and gasps for breath. “Not too used for me tonight, are you?” he asks, cupping Doph’s chin in a large palm and looking down into his wide brown eyes.  
         “Nah.” Offhanded though it is, Kylo can tell Doph is being honest—although he believes the boy might still choose to take him otherwise. Despite knowing there isn’t much of a connection between them, he also senses what little they do have is far more than Doph is accustomed to. Besides, the whore has made it clear that he enjoys Kylo’s playfully cruel remarks and his generous tips. And he’s also demonstrated that concern for his own wellbeing, both physical and mental, is low on his list of priorities.  
         “Mind if I go a few times?” Kylo asks, dropping his hands to Doph’s chest to twist both nipples at once.  
         “Not if you pay for each,” Doph responds, biting down softly on his lower lip.  
         Kylo’s lips slide into a lopsided smile. “Gladly. So get out of your clothes and on the bed.” Watching the boy strip, the knight sighs inwardly. He’s going to miss everything about this—even the sadness that underpins Doph’s callous remarks, the retorts that gloss over the many awful things that brought him here. The knight is glad he didn’t find someone more exclusive, because on a barely acknowledged level he basks in the way pleasure is inextricably intertwined with pain in this tiny apartment.  
         “How many men tonight?” Kylo asks as he nudges Doph’s legs apart and slips a lubricated thumb inside his hole. Ren guesses he’s at least the fourth, from the heat and give of exercised muscles, the sheen of slick and sweat on Doph’s bare skin, the languid movements and slow speech of multiple hits taken in the pause between multiple men.   
         The knight catches Doph wondering,  _What is it with these two wanting to know the details of my workday?_  But he mumbles, “Lemme check” and reaches for his comm. “Six. It’s the weekend, after all.”  
         Having overheard the boy’s mental question, he has to admit he isn’t sure why. Well, he asks because the answers excite him in a way that ordinary people would be ashamed of. But he doesn’t know why hearing about Doph’s previous customers makes him ache to be the next. “Did any of them get you off?” he inquires, slapping his dick between Doph’s cheeks teasingly.  
         “No.”  
         “Does anyone even ask?” He doesn’t care that his tone drips with judgement. A Dark Side user shouldn’t be anyone’s most courteous client—what the hell is wrong with everyone?  
         Doph snorts at the ridiculous question. “They’re not dates, Ren. Just business. They don’t owe me anything but credits.”  
         “Still. I like making you come. The sex is better for me if you’re having fun, too.”  
         “I appreciate that,” Doph admits.  
         “It’s hotter when you’re panting my name and your ass is clenching around my dick like you’re physically begging me to breed you.”  
         The boy lets out a soft moan and wriggles against him. “Fuck, Ren. C’mon and make it happen.”

 

The first round ends with Kylo giving Doph a facial, and he has to admit he’s proud of both the volume and his aim. He’d hit both cheekbones, bridge of the nose, lower lip, and chin—and even managed to paint a streak in Doph’s hair. The pearlescent white contrasts strikingly with the boy’s dark brown hair, and Kylo Force-pulls his comm out of his jacket across the room.  
         “What, gonna take a picture of your work here?” Doph inquires, eyebrows raised. He’s curious about this, as he’s had plenty of men record him during sex, but rarely after. And his face doesn’t matter much; it’s pleasant enough but customers don’t hire him to look at it, much less take pictures of it for vacation albums.  
         Hearing these surface thoughts, Kylo instinctively compliments him. “Why not? You’re fucking gorgeous like this.” Snapping a few stills, Kylo adds, “Now lick it off.” He groans softly at the sight of the rentboy wiping the ejaculate onto his fingers and then sucking them one by one. “Gods, you could charge so much more.” He watches Doph smile widely, genuinely, for a brief moment before the expression fades. The boy leaves the bed and scoops up his wadded trousers to remove a packet from the back pocket.          “Want some?” he asks, holding the tiny bag up for inspection and flicking at it with the index finger of his other hand.  
       “Um,” is all Kylo can think to say. He’s never taken anything but alcohol, and even that he has to be careful with, as it can easily amplify a morose mood. “What is it?”  
       “Glitter. It’s what I take in order to keep up with you and your Force,” Doph explains. “Stimulant. Really lovely shit. Hux likes it.”  
       “Hux took drugs with you?” Kylo is stunned. The general is the epitome of civilisation, all law and propriety; Kylo can barely imagine the man enjoying anything more than a cigarra and a brandy.  
       Doph leans over the coffee table, tapping some powder out onto the glass surface. “Yep,” he confirms brightly. “You shoulda seen him on it. He was a little wild. Last time he made me call him ‘sir’ and beg. Pretty intense.”  
       (Shining orange in the low light, Hux’s hair is out of order, strands of it falling over his forehead and into his eyes. Pulling Doph’s head back as he thrusts forward, he’s equally beautiful and dangerous.)  
       Finding his throat instantly dry, Kylo gulps. Granted, he’s aware that Hux gets off on exercising power—after all, he’s sat beside him jerking off to the man’s pornography. The general’s preferred vids tend to feature light bondage, prolonged edging, and an undercurrent of humiliation, which is why Kylo had insisted Doph wear that collar for their threesome. But actually hearing about Hux’s real-world behaviour (and witnessing a glimpse of it in a projected memory) has his dick twitching again, unassisted by his powers.  
       Peering over Doph’s head, Kylo watches him prepare two thin lines. The boy turns back and reminds him, “The offer’s still open.”  
       Not trusting himself with a substance that could undermine what little self-restraint he has, Kylo declines. “No, thanks. But go ahead.” He could see himself saying things he’d likely regret once he sobered up. Stupidly sentimental things that Doph surely wouldn’t want to hear.

 

During the second round, by the time Doph has collapsed forward onto the mattress, Kylo is still going strong. At this point, the whore has given up on meeting the knight’s movements in favour of lying here and taking it.  
       “How much more can you take?” Ren asks.  
       “How many more credits you got on you?” he mumbles, words obscured by the fabric of the pillowcase, which it seems he’s drooled onto. In light of this discovery, he flips the pillow over.  
       Rubbing both Doph’s shoulders at once, Ren softly questions, “That’s really your only concern?”  
       “Pretty much.” He’d made sure to take a muscle relaxant immediately after Kylo booked the appointment. It had carried him well through the first fuck and beyond, but now he’s grunting with each thrust; it’s starting to burn. “Actually, more lube?”  
       “Sure.” Ren must be using the Force because both his hands are still gripping Doph’s shoulders as he drizzles more slick onto his cock and slowly fucks it in.  
       “Thanks,” Doph sighs, falling quiet again. He tries to feel bad about leaving Hux out of the fun tonight, but the general is attending some farewell dinner event and the knight is currently taking up all his attention.  
       “Fuck. So good. You feel so good. Start jerking off for me, babe.”  
       “Close?” Doph asks, voice teasing as he turns his head to catch the ecstatic expression on Ren’s face.  _Hell, you’re handsome when you’re enjoying yourself—and me._  And he already knows the answer to his question, because he’s learned how much the man wants them both to come together. So he folds his knees under himself, licks his palm, and closes his fingers around his cock. With the muscle relaxant on board, he shouldn’t be able to be this hard; the Force must be in play here.  
       As the furious pounding continues, Ren’s moaned response is, “Gods, yes.”  
       “Then fill me, Lord Ren,” he demands in a breathless whine. He’d seen the way Ren’s cheeks and ears had flushed when he’d told him about Hux’s orders to beg. It follows that this man would enjoy the same from him.  
       “No,” the knight says so quietly the word can barely be heard over the sound of their bodies moving together. “Call me Kylo.”  
       Doph blinks, knowing in the back of his mind that this means something but unable to focus enough to determine what. “Kylo. Please.”  
       The knight responds first with a garbled groan, then a breathy, “Dopheld. Oh, fuck, Dopheld.”  
       At the sound of this strong and oddly beautiful man moaning his full given name, Doph’s entire body tenses a split second before his own orgasm hits. “Kylo,” he whispers, because it feels like the only thing to say. As the knight wraps his arms around him, squeezing for a brief moment in some sort of embrace, the rentboy realises that he’d never shared what “Doph” is short for.

 

Once he’s rolled off and out of Doph, Kylo looks directly into his eyes and quietly admits, “Fuck, I’ll miss you.”  
       Reaching for his cigarettes and sparker, Doph shares, “Hey, so that reminds me. I’m thinking about coming back with you two.”  
       “Wait, what?” Kylo asks, blindsided by this revelation.  
       “Hux invited me to live with him on board.” Doph bends over the side of the mattress to fish around for the trousers he’d tossed away when he’d fetched the glitter.  
       Staring uselessly at the boy’s subtly muscled back, Kylo is inundated with conflicting responses to the disclosure. First, he’s pleased that tonight may not be the last time he sees Doph. But there’s an unmistakable undercurrent of jealousy. What sort of connection has General Hux built with Doph that he’d make such an offer? Kylo knew the whore first, had been the one to introduce them, and unlike Hux, had never made Doph cry.  _Kylo_  should have been the one to ask.  
       Why hadn’t it even occurred to him? Is Hux in fact the better man, or just the more prepared?  
       Trying to focus on the conversation they’re actually having, Kylo inquires, “Which way are you leaning?” He hopes his voice doesn’t betray how surprisingly invested he is in the answer. In the meantime, he retrieves his jacket and busies himself with counting out the credits he owes plus an additional seventy five.  
       “Well, as fantastic as my life is here,” Doph begins with a smirk as he pulls his trousers up, “You’re the two best customers I’ve had in years. And the chance to live rent free—”  
       Kylo interrupts with, “What about your… habits?” He’s trying to tread lightly as he doesn’t want to insult Doph, but it’s a topic that needs to be dealt with. Kylo knows just enough about tar to be aware that withdrawal is a miserable process.  
       Crossing his arms defensively over his bare chest, Doph mutters, “Hux said he’ll take care of it. Get me on some safer replacement, make sure I don’t get sick.”  
       “You trust him with that?” Kylo has found that Doph seems especially comfortable after sex, and tonight is no different. These are the moments the whore is most willing to speak openly and honestly. Once he’s been used and paid for it, Doph has little incentive to continue to play-act. And Kylo suspects that the young man is additionally relaxed around him—not because of any emotional connection, but because he’s actually climaxed. Because he’s physically as well as financially satisfied.  
       Doph continues his argument in support of returning with the co-commanders of the  _Finalizer_. “I don’t trust myself with tar anymore.” He shrugs lightly before sitting back down on the mattress in resignation. “I’ve only had six years of school, but I’m not a moron. I know if I keep on goin’ like this, I’ll be dead inside five years. And no one will miss me.”  
       “I’d miss you,” Kylo offers without thinking, holding his leggings in his hands and staring at them as though unsure how they work.   
       Doph waves this cheap sentiment off. “You wouldn’t even know. You’d forget about me the second you leave, except when you jerk off sometimes. Like to those pictures you took tonight.”  
       Frowning at the accusation but not arguing with it, Kylo murmurs, “So maybe I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”  
       “Yeah. Maybe.”  
       The knight finishes dressing, pulls his hair back, and leaves.

 

Things are starting to look up for once. The last time he’d felt any significant degree of hope about the future was when he’d moved out of Torian’s. Breaking away from his older brother’s control had meant gaining a decent amount of power. His credits, his apartment, his clients. After that, in theory he’d been able to decline any potential trick—there was no need to service Torian’s friends, or more frequently, his creditors.  
       Of course he rarely turned any men down, as long as they were good for payment. Especially once he’d established certain habits. Speaking of those, Doph is now preparing to tie off for the last time. The tourniquet snugly in place around his left bicep, he smacks the inside of the elbow repeatedly and clenches his hand into a fist. Ripping open an alcohol swab, he wipes his planned injection site. As it evaporates, the chilliness finally brings a viable vein into view. He won’t miss this part, the increasingly frustrating search for a decent place to get a line in. Holding the barrel of the drawn syringe between his teeth, he pulls the tourniquet off with his right hand. Stretching out his left forearm on the table, he leans forward. Angles the needle. Dips it in. Pulls the plunger back, watches the miniature red bloom of blood in the syringe. Pushes the plunger down a ways for a taste. He’s rarely this careful, but he finally has something to look forward to. It’d be just his luck to OD the night before he’s about to ditch Lothal for good.  
A hint of the familiar buzz sets in, but it’s merely a tantalising thread. So he pushes the rest of the dose as quickly as comfortable. Holds the needle steady, removes it, folds up his arm. Not so much to prevent bleeding, but to keep the full dose inside his vein. He has priorities, after all.  
       He hasn’t mainlined in about thirty six hours, so this hits him good and hard. It reminds him a bit of the first time. Back then, he’d never suspected anything in the galaxy could feel so perfect. And sure, he’d known it wasn’t real, that it didn’t mean anything. But none of that mattered, because reality had always been utter shit. Meaningless pleasure is still pleasure. Still hits all the same notes.  
       Doph grins and stands, stretching. He lets out a short laugh, then stumbles over to his bed. This is the last time he’ll sleep alone on a sprung mattress. Tomorrow will be the last morning he wakes up staring at a moldy ceiling with cracked plaster.  
        _Holy shit,_  he realises. _I’ll never have to fuck a stranger again._  
       Simply put, it doesn’t seem possible.


	7. Shuttle Out

Waking to the unusual sound of his alarm chiming during a morning hour, Doph tosses his sheet aside and rubs his eyes. Washing up as best he can with a small cloth soaked in cold water, he pulls on his least clingy pair of trousers. They’re faded and patched on one knee, but at least they don’t scream, “body for rent.” Throwing on a t-shirt, he runs his fingertips gently over the veins running down his elbows and lower arms. Bruises in all stages of healing, the reddened bumps of phlebitis, row upon row of tiny divots chronicling every time he’d given in without a hint of a fight. Hugging his chest, he tells himself it’s over. That he has something worth getting clean for. Then he throws on a light jacket that mercifully covers the twin disasters of his inner arms.  
         He tosses back half a hydromorphone tablet with a swig of cloudy water and places his kit box inside the packed duffel bag that’s barely half full. Grabbing a protein bar from the box on the counter of the kitchenette, he takes one last sweeping look around his apartment, intending to burn it into his memory.  
          _This is where you came from. This is what you’re escaping._  
         On his way to the landing pad, Doph smokes his way through five cigarettes. He has to pause before turning the last corner to wipe the cold sweat off his brow and dig into his pocket for the bar. Chewing a large bite, he wills his stomach to cease churning, at least to the point where it no longer hurts. After he swallows, he straightens his back, squares his shoulders, and advances.  
         He’s in the process of sending Hux an alert when the shuttle ramp extends to the ground and clutching his bag to his chest, Doph ascends into the unknown.  
         “Good morning,” Hux greets him from just inside. Then, glancing down, “Is this all you’ve brought?”  
         “Yeah. Ain’t got much worth carting around.”  
         “Well, let me show you to your berth.” Placing a hand on the small of Doph’s back, the general guides him inside. “The journey will be accomplished in two legs, totalling approximately thirty two hours.”  
         Outside the doorway to Hux’s room—it seems they’re to share quarters during the trip as well—Doph nervously asks, “What do I do in the meantime?” Because he hasn’t a clue.  
         “Once we’re on our way and you’re settled in, we’ll review our plans for getting you where you need to end up. Safely ensconced in my quarters, to be specific. Other than that, you may do as you please. Go ahead and set your bag down here,” he instructs, gesturing to his desk. It’s where Doph had sat two nights ago to inject before bedtime. He lets the bag drop to the surface. “May I take a look?” the general asks, hand hovering above the zipper.  
         “Sure. No secrets.” In the meantime, he pulls out his comm and messages his landlord, informing the slimy bastard that he’s free to do what he pleases with the possessions left behind. _Enjoy the security deposit, too,_ he adds. _Because I’m gone for good._  
         Hux is carefully sifting through Doph’s few possessions. Four changes of clothes, all relatively modest. Toothbrush, dentrifice, comb. Opening an inner pocket, Hux removes a delicate bracelet and holds it out, a question unspoken.  
         “It was my mother’s,” Doph explains with a shy shrug.  
         Nodding silently, Hux returns the item to its previous location before pulling out a durasteel box. “Is this what I think it is?”  
         “Yeah. I brought enough to keep me from withdrawing til we get where we’re going.”  
         “Good.” Peering now into the bottom of the duffel, he concludes, “I must admit I’m surprised by the utter lack of sex toys.”  
         Smirking at the topic, Doph answers, “I wanna start fresh.” He’d rather not employ devices used on him by other customers. Nearly all are men he’d rather forget. “Besides, don’t you have plenty?”  
         “Not with me, but yes, I have.”

 

As they exit Hux’s room together, Kylo stops dead in the hallway at the sight of Doph. “You came,” he observes hoarsely.  
         “Sure did,” Doph answers. “Happy to see me, Lord Ren?”  
         Hux nearly rolls his eyes at the way Ren is blatantly gawking at the boy. “He asked you a question.” Maker, dealing with the knight is like interacting with a socially stunted child.  
         “Yes. Yes, I am.”  
         “Well, I need to finish the preflight check. Why don’t you two buckle in for the first jump?” Without waiting for their compliance, the general strides toward the cockpit. Unlocking the access door with his palm-print, he settles into the pilot’s chair and begins flicking at the controls.  
         On some level, Hux can’t believe he’s doing this. To make certain, he glances back at Doph, who’s strapped in to a seat behind him. The boy has cleaned up relatively well, appearance-wise at least, without makeup and wearing fresh clothes that don’t fit too tightly. And he looks terribly uncomfortable. Maker, but he seems so _young_ like this.  
         “Nervous?” Ren asks, reaching an awkwardly large hand out to place reassuringly over the boy’s knee.  
         A corner of the boy’s mouth twitches upward. “Never been off-world.”  
         “Oh.” Ren unbuckles his own straps and kneels on the floor beside Doph. “Then the _Finalizer_ is going to be a bit of a shock.”  
         Hux feels like kicking Ren out of the cockpit entirely. He’s the one who ought to be preparing Doph for what comes next. Instead, he reminds himself to breathe before saying or doing anything rash. Once he’s thinking straight, he chooses to let the two of them continue to chat. Then he finishes the diagnostics and opens a channel with Lothal Air Control.  
         “This is Shuttle Senth-11 of Sienar-Jaemus Fleet Systems, requesting clearance to take off at 0730 as scheduled.”  
         “Copy that. Shuttle Senth-11, your clearance is granted. Please proceed.”  
         “Copy, Control.” Hux guides the shuttle through the atmosphere, then checks his shoulder and belt straps, places the soles of his boots firmly on the floor, and hits the hyperdrive.  
         When it kicks in, Doph coughs and retches onto the floor. Hux turns his neck and sees the boy bent double, saliva dangling from his chin. Ren has a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
         “Sorry,” he mumbles to Hux, wiping his face on the inner elbow of his jacket.  
         Adequately concealing his disgust, Hux assures Doph, “No, I ought to apologize.” At least the boy looks appropriately ashamed. “We’re both quite accustomed to this, so it didn’t even occur to me to give you an antiemetic.”  
         No doubt recognising Doph’s lost look, Ren breaks in to clarify. “A no-puke pill.”  
         “They make those?” the boy asks in wonder. “Shit, now you tell me.”  
         Ren grins at Hux and projects, _He’s thinking he could have used one before deep-throating me._  
         Hux rolls his eyes at that. The knight needs no further encouragement.

 

Once Doph is steady enough to be moved, Ren guides him to Hux’s room and sets him on the bed. Bending down, the knight removes the boy’s shoes.  
         “Sh,” he soothes, even though Doph is already uncharacteristically quiet. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” Daring to thread his fingertips through the boy’s dark hair, he adds, “Comm us if you need anything, alright?”  
         Doph nods and lies back on the bed to stare blankly up at the ceiling.  
         As Kylo leaves the room, he senses Doph actively trying not to think about how he’s hurtling through space in what amounts to a very fancy tin can.  
          _You’ve survived far worse,_ the former whore reminds himself. _Just breathe._  
         So the knight returns to the cockpit. But within minutes, even from here, Kylo can feel Doph’s anxiety rising from the berth. “He seems to be closing in on a panic attack,” he informs Hux.  
         “Isn’t there something you can do to calm him down?”  
         Frowning in thought but nodding, Kylo answers, “Perhaps” and stands.  
         “If not,” Hux continues, “let me know. I have a few sedatives in the medkit.”  
         Hoping it doesn’t come to that, Kylo returns to the general’s bedroom. Taking hold of one of Doph’s clammy hands, he attempts to exude an aura of calm and instructs, “Remember a time you felt safe.” He hopes his voice is soothing, is concerned it sounds more like an off-key warble.  
         The boy’s forehead wrinkles. Kylo pushes another small wave of comfort over him. He hasn’t done this sort of thing in years as it’s rooted more in Light than Dark. But Doph takes a deep breath and his eyes fall shut.  
         “Where are you?” Kylo asks in order to cement the memory in Doph’s mind.  
         “Lambeth’s place. We’re lying in bed. He’s just holding me.”  
         Kylo can view the scene himself now, and as he steps inside, a queasiness increasingly envelops him. Perin Lambeth had been one of Doph’s teachers back when the boy used to attend school. Now that Doph has dropped out, though, Lambeth is hiring him on a somewhat regular basis. And the reason Lambeth is “just holding” Doph now is because he’s already finished fucking the boy.  
         This is when Doph can remember feeling safe. Back when he was fourteen and in the employ of a man thrice his age who knew better than most that he was still a child. But Lambeth truly treated Doph more gently than others. He always gave the boy a nice meal before touching him at all, never argued about the use of condoms, and held him afterward—even paying for the extra time to cuddle.  
         This was the closest approximation to kindness that Doph has known. It infuriates Kylo. He’s exhausted by the time he rejoins Hux.  
         “Feeling better, is he?” the general asks, sounding unconcerned as he turns to face Ren.  
         “Yes. He’s sleeping now.”  
         With an eyebrow raised, the general observes, “You, on the other hand, look terrible.”  
         “I might have witnessed a few of his memories.” He fiddles with the handle of his sabre as he puts his thoughts together. “I told him to remember a time he felt safe.”  
         “And?” Hux asks flatly, already sounding bored with the conversation.  
         “It was with a man who used to be one of his schoolteachers. Doph was fourteen.”  
         Shrugging casually, Hux states, “I’m glad he has some decent memories.”  
         “It was abuse!” Kylo erupts, slamming a fist against the nearest wall.  
         “Of _course_ it was, Ren,” the general explains patronisingly slowly. “What, did you think you’d stumbled upon the one hooker who’d started at the age of twelve and remained miraculously intact psychologically?” He shakes his head in incomprehension. “It would take a tremendous amount of naivete to believe the boy hasn’t been used by a whole village-worth of paedophiles. Maker, who else do you think would hire a child sex worker?”  
         “I know! The point is that man was one of his _pleasant_ memories!” After that forceful declaration Ren storms out, leaving Hux alone in the pilot’s seat to handle the craft’s navigation. They have to fall out of hyperspace to pick their way through an asteroid belt first and a crowded shipping lane next. Ren returns to the cockpit around 1930 and inquires, “Are you planning on staying here all night?”  
         Blinking his dry eyes, Hux responds, “What are you actually asking, Ren?”  
         “He’s alone in your bed, you know. And he’s feeling better now.”  
         Narrowing his eyes in consideration, Hux muses, “You think he could use some company?”  
         “Perhaps. This is all very new and disconcerting for him.”  
         “Hmm. And I suppose that if I were to remain here, you’d offer to entertain him yourself?”  
         “I mean, not in your bed. But.”  
         Hux chuckles at Ren’s fumbling enthusiasm. “How would you feel about a celebratory three-way?”  
         Letting his breath out in a long gust of air, Kylo nods deeply. “Yes, please.”

 

“Hey,” Doph murmurs at the sound of the door sliding open. His voice is heavy with sleep. “Come to bed?”  
         “That was the plan,” Hux answers. “Ren is with me.”  
         “Oh. Oh well, then.” The boy sits up and blinks. “Um. I’m not really…”  
         Arching an eyebrow, the general asks coldly, “Not what?”  
         “Cleaned up.”  
         Expression softening instantly, Hux says, “Ah. In that case, there’s an item in the fresher cabinet to help you out.”  
         Hopping out of bed, Doph pads to the water closet and closes the door behind him. After splashing some chilly water on his face, he opens the cabinet above the sink and immediately sees the object in question. Grabbing the enema, he kicks off his pyjama bottoms and crouches on the tile floor. Years ago, he felt embarrassed by this, but those days are long past. It’s all just part of business, something he does to get ready for an evening of customers. Except.  
         Except now he doesn’t have customers. Just the two men in the bedroom outside, waiting to tag team him. Grinning, he squeezes the bottle, emptying its fluid contents. It doesn’t take long before he has the sudden urge to void. Perching on the toilet, he imagines what Hux and Ren are planning for him next.  
         He’d like to be spit-roast. Preferably with Kylo battering him from behind and Hux choking him in front. His dick twitches. Wiping himself off, he stands and takes a quick turn in the sonic. During which he repeatedly teases himself, flicking his nipples with one hand and tickling behind his sac with the other.  
         By the time he opens the door, he’s panting lightly. “Hey. So, any chance you two would like to spit-roast me?” They both grin at him and nod. “Ah, thank the Maker, then,” he sighs in relief.  
         “Any preference for which of us is where?” Hux inquires.  
         “Actually, yeah.” He’s not accustomed to voicing his desires, and it thrills him deeply. He explains what he’s hoping for and watches as Hux smiles in approval. His chest swells with this incredible feeling—Hux caring to ask what he wants, and agreeing to it easily. Fuck. It’s got him throbbing in his pyjama pants, now tented obscenely. “Great,” he concludes. “So, lube?”  
         “Right here,” Kylo states, waving the bottle in one hand. As Doph stretches before getting down on the mattress on all fours, the knight asks, “How much prep do you want?”  
         “Just a little. Couple fingers while I’m blowing Hux.” He curls a hand around each of Hux’s thighs and the general simply permits him to do as he pleases with his mouth. Any moment he’s expecting Hux to take over, to grab a fistful of his hair and pull him down, but it doesn’t happen. In the meantime, Kylo is gently exploring his pucker and taint with slippery fingers. Soon he pulls back to demand, “Go on and fuck me now.”  
         Giving his balls a quick squeeze, Kylo spreads Doph’s cheeks and teases his entrance with the head of his cock.  
         “ _Now_ , Kylo,” Doph reminds him pointedly.  
         “Hm, he’s gotten a bit demanding, hasn’t he?” Hux observes, stroking himself lightly and repeatedly tapping Doph’s lips with his tip. The slit is glistening with the mixture of Doph’s spit and his precome.  
         “I don’t mind. Not when he’s begging to be fucked.”  
         “Point taken.”  
         With no further warning, Kylo shoves his way in, blunt force demanding that Doph’s passage make way. He can feel his back shudder involuntarily, and he half-sobs, half-moans at the intrusion.  
         “You wanted this, remember?” the knight growls.  
         He nods, biting his lower lip. But Hux places his fingertips at the corners of his mouth, forcing his jaw open. “Don’t make me have Ren Force-gag you.” He shakes his head, obediently parting his lips to let Hux back in. And this time, the general takes what he needs from him, and of course Doph is content to indulge him. While each of Kylo’s forward movements push him closer to Hux, he looks up at the man who is in the process of rescuing him, and all he can think is, _Thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever to put together, but here it finally is: the bridge between Doph's old life on Lothal and his new one on the Finalizer.


	8. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Mention of past child sex abuse and incest. Brief reference to interrogations/torture.

Hux is back in the pilot’s chair and Ren has been hovering over his neck for twenty minutes when he finally snaps, “Can I help you?”  
         “Actually. I was wondering.” It isn’t the smoothest introduction, but Hux appears at least partway relieved that Ren is speaking instead of being a silent nuisance. _Like a fly caught in the cockpit,_ he catches the general thinking. _Uselessly buzzing around._  
         “Yes.”  
         “That is, if you don’t mind, maybe I could have some time with Doph? Alone?”  
         Hux lets out a small gust of breath, either a derisive snort or the ghost of a laugh. “Be my guest. Just—”  
         “Not in your room, I know.” With that, Kylo heads right out. He presses the buzzer to Hux’s door because he isn’t sure how else to announce his presence.  
         “Yeah? Um, come in?”  
         Peering into the room, the knight sees Doph lounging on the bed wearing only pyjama bottoms. There’s a datapad in his hands and he appears to be reading something. It surprises Kylo—he hadn’t considered the boy as having intellectual interests. Then he promptly berates himself for that; Doph had left school due to financial hardship, not a lack of acuity. “Hey. How are you doing?”  
         “I’m not detoxing yet, if that’s what you’re asking. I brought enough meds with me to hold that off for a while.” He taps the stylus against his lips absently, as if still considering something he’d read.  
         “Think you might be up for something?”  
         Eyebrows raised, Doph asks, “Didn’t you two finish banging me not six hours ago?”  
         “Yes, but I didn’t get to enjoy your mouth.”  
         “Ah. C’mere, then.”  
         Kylo begins moving before halting abruptly halfway to the bed. “Sorry, Hux said we need to use my room if he isn’t involved.”  
         “Kay.” Doph stands up, smooths his pants down, and declares, “Lead the way, My Lord.”  
         Shaking his head with a smile, Kylo insists, “Stop calling me that. It’s Kylo.”  
         “You used to only want me to call you Ren. What changed?”  
         The knight shrugs. He isn’t sure.

 

Once they reach Kylo’s room, he grasps Doph by the waist and holds him close. “You still smell like sex,” he points out.  
         “That a problem?”  
         “Not really. But I should wash up, at least. Since I fucked you up the ass.” Cocking his head to the side after this crude remark, Kylo shyly asks, “Would you join me? In the bath?”  
         It’s a real bath, not just an anachronistic term applied to a sonic. Doph has seen bubbles like this in holovids, but never experienced them himself. They seem ridiculous, decadent. He’s halfway in love with them already.  
         “Fuck,” Doph groans, stretching his legs out and wiggling his toes just above the water line. Each toe is topped with a cap of suds, making them look like a range of pink mountains covered in snow. “This is _sooo_ relaxing.”  
         “Mm. You’ll be able to take my dick with no prep at all after this, I bet.” He continues to massage the shampoo into Doph’s hair. The younger man is more or less melting against his chest.  
         “Hope you don’t want me to move much. Cause I’m gonna want to lie there like a fuckin’ blow-up doll.”  
         “I bet you’ll find some enthusiasm. You always do, for me.”  
         Instead of responding with a standard quip, Doph sighs happily. “Yeah. You’re right.” He flicks at a tuft of soap bubbles, sending a bit of foam into Kylo’s face where it attaches to the tip of his nose.  
         The knight responds by dunking Doph under the water.

 

Doph finds enough energy to suck Ren off like he’s being well paid for it. Once again, Kylo finds himself wishing he had the heart—or lack thereof—to skull-fuck the boy the way Hux does. But he hasn’t that level of dominance, or the stomach to listen to Doph choke without experiencing an erection-depleting level of pity. Instead he allows Doph to do as he pleases, and within ten minutes he’s groaning out his orgasm.  
         Watching Doph swallow mechanically, he reflects on how the former whore is still mostly a stranger to him. There’s so much Hux already knows about the boy, and Kylo feels in the dark. Wanting to close those gaps in his knowledge, he asks, “How’d you learn how to do all this? Trial and error?”  
         “Nah. Before I started properly, Torian—my older brother—would have some friends over. For me to practice on. Just with my mouth and hands, though.”  
         Brow wrinkling, Kylo asks, “Would he stay around during this?”  
         “Yeah. Wanted to make sure no one tried to fuck me. Had to save that for a paying customer.”  
         Feeling an indignant rage rise in his chest, the knight reminds himself that the topic at hand is not the way Doph’s virginity was auctioned off. Forcing his mind to return to the subject under discussion, he inquires, “How old were these boys?”  
         “His age. Seventeen-ish.”  
         “So, Torian just stood there and watched while you blew his friends?” Silently, he adds, _While you were all of twelve?_  
         “Pretty much. In case you’re wondering, we didn’t record it. Child porn charges didn’t sound fun.”  
         Kylo was very much _not_ curious about documentation of these acts. He has no interest in viewing Doph’s exploitation at an exceedingly young age. On that topic, he doesn’t need to peer to feel the hard edge of the walls Doph has put in place to keep in check the wounds of betrayal by the one person who’d sworn to watch out for him. But still Kylo feels something else—a twinge of a memory buried even deeper than most. “Doph.”  
         “What?” the boy snaps.  
         “Did he ever—?”  
         Hastily, Doph crosses his arms over his bare chest and interrupts with, “And what if he _did_? You gonna fix it?”  
         “Oh. Shit.” Now he sees it, sees what Torian had done one night after his friends left. And even worse, what had happened a few years later when he came home from a frustrating date. When he’d looked at Doph and seen the next best thing. An accessible body accustomed to misuse, dependent on him for food, shelter, and clients.  
         “Don’t look at me like that. Please.”  
         Searching his face, Kylo asks, “Like what?”  
         “Like I’m the most pathetic thing you’ve ever seen.”  
         But he _is_. Kylo instantly wishes he could take back the blowjob he’d more or less demanded, but he can’t. “I’m sorry. About everything that happened.”  
         “Ain’t your fault,” Doph answers morosely, staring intently at the floor. “Now, is there gonna be a Round Two or should I go back to Hux’s room?”  
         Mutually exclusive impulses battle in Kylo’s mind. Yes, he’d originally intended to fuck Doph after the blowjob, but now he isn’t sure whether he could get it up now—and even less sure that he would want to.  
         “Make up your mind, love. I’m about due for another dose.”  
         “Go back and take it, then,” Kylo says, hoping the order sounds firm but still relatively gentle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He catches a flash of Doph’s own conflict _(Thank you—Don’t you want me—How broken do you think I am?—I should just rest up)_.

 

Doph wakes up three hours later and pads to the cockpit wearing only a pair of boxers and socks, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like an improvised cape. Kylo glances at his rumpled hair and thinks he looks younger than twenty two.  
         “How many people on this boat of yours?” Doph asks Hux. “Hundreds, I imagine.”  
         Hux smiles and corrects him. “Nearly one hundred thousand.”  
         The boy’s jaw drops.  
         “Come to the viewport, Doph. See for yourself.”  
         If it’s possible, his mouth opens wider. Ren almost tells him he’s in danger of tripping on his own face, but he tries to view the flagship as though he’d never seen anything larger than a short-distance transport. Even after years in space, the _Finalizer_ still makes the knight catch his breath. It’s every bit as imposing as the _Executor_ had been, but sleeker and much more graceful. Besides, he can see Hux brimming with pride at Doph’s reaction to his brainchild.  
         “It’s…” the boy searches his limited vocabulary for an apt descriptor. “Magnificent.”  
         “Yes, yes it is,” Kylo agrees. He decides to give the general some credit. “Hux was her lead engineer.”  
         Doph turns and gapes at the redhead. “You… designed this?”  
         “I did.”  
         Kylo hears Doph wonder, _You brought something this beautiful into the galaxy? And you want me?_  
         Hux walks to a locker and holds a stack of clothes out to the boy. “Remember your role?”  
         “Yes. I’m a minor criminal—all too true—who’s been running black-market military supplies to the Resistance. So, you two are taking me back to the _Finalizer_ to interrogate me horribly.”  
         The redhead chuckles. “You’re lucky it’s just a cover story. The interrogations Ren and I run are… well, a bit notorious.”  
         Kylo turns to explain. “Hux uses all the traditional enhanced techniques.”  
         “And Lord Ren has more… mystical methods,” the general states, wriggling his fingers enigmatically.  
         Doph has to inquire, “Which is worse?”  
         The two men answer together, looking pointedly at one another. “ _His_.”


	9. Welcome Home

From the doorway of the shuttle fresher, Kylo Ren observes Hux as he once again assumes the air of a general. He splashes aftershave on his meticulously shorn face, then spreads gel through his hair before using the comb expertly to create a perfect part. When he exits the facilities to don his greatcoat, the knight thinks that he’ll miss the man he spent time with on Lothal. But perhaps Doph’s presence will change things on the _Finalizer_.  
         Keeping these thoughts to himself where they belong, Ren completes his own preparations by securing his helmet.  
         “Shit,” Doph curses in a stage whisper from the corner. “You look like some kind of demon.”  
         “Smoke and mirrors,” Ren explains enigmatically.  
         Putting a hand up to cover his mouth, Doph says, “Your _voice_.”  
         “We all have images to maintain. Some more blatantly theatrical than others.” With this pronouncement, General Hux strides to Doph’s seat and offers him a hand up. “From here on out, in public, you’re nothing more than an informant in custody.” Smiling coldly, he adds, “We’ll leave it up to the masses to gossip about why you’re staying in my quarters.”  
         “Just part of my plea bargain?” Doph asks coyly.  
         Kylo rests a hand on the boy’s hip and he shifts into the touch. “Another service you’re providing the Order.”  
         With that, the three disembark, the knight and the general side by side and Doph Mitaka picking up the rear. On the deck of the landing bay, Hux and Ren are met by a contingent of bridge officers and two squadrons of troopers. At the head is Lieutenant Unamo, clutching a datapad and stylus in one hand and clearly anxious to have the situation on board return to normal. Ren overhears a few choice thoughts: _Thank the Maker_ and _Peavey was close to ending up with my service blade between his ribs_ and _I may actually be relieved to see Lord Ren._  
         “Welcome back, General. Lord Ren. I trust the mission went well?”  
         “Indeed, Lieutenant.”  
         “The Supreme Leader requested an audience at 1300 hours. Should I schedule a debriefing with the SK project team?”  
         “Yes.” Glancing at his chrono more out of habit than necessity, Hux instructs, “Set it for 1500.”  
         Unamo clears her throat.  
         “Also, we brought back a civilian informant.”  
         She nods, tapping away at her tablet. “Will you be running the interrogation yourself, General?”  
         “Yes, as a joint project with Ren.”  
         The lieutenant finally raises her eyes to look Doph over, and Kylo takes the easy path into the surface of her mind.  
          _Very young, early twenties at most. Not bad looking, either. Wonder if he has any idea what he’s in for._ “Yes, sir,” she says aloud. “He’ll need the standard medical screening, unless this is an urgent matter—”  
         “It isn’t terribly urgent, no. It’s only 1015 now, which leaves us plenty of time. I’ll act as his escort for the time being.”  
         “Very well, sir. In the meantime I’ll set up the debriefing.”  
         “Thank you, Unamo.” With a curt nod, he dismisses the lieutenant, sending her off to complete her administrative duties.  
         Hux wraps a gloved hand around Doph’s upper arm and sharply orders, “Stay with me. No sudden movements.”  
         Silently, the knight informs Doph, _Lieutenant Unamo thinks you’re attractive._  
         Doph snorts. _Unfortunately for her, I’m gay and taken. So very taken._  
         Kylo slings the boy’s duffel bag over his shoulder and takes hold of Doph’s other arm. To any observer, Dopheld Mitaka must look well and fully doomed.

 

By the time Doph passes through the doors to the Medical Wing, he is starting to look distinctly ill. His face is pale and shining with a light sweat and he keeps rubbing his hands together as if unsure what to do with them.  
         “Are you unwell?” Hux inquires.  
         “It’s coming,” Doph replies darkly, sounding like a prophet from an ancient civilisation. _The endtimes are upon us._  
         “This shouldn’t take long. Besides, it will be easier to get you on a replacement if your problem is apparent.”  
         “I know, I know,” Doph repeats to himself, then sniffles. “Shit.” He blinks tears out of his eyes. “I trust you, I swear I do.”  
         Hux reaches out and squeezes Doph’s hand. “This will all work out. You’re stronger than you realise.” Then, giving the boy a small, private smile, he stands back as a nurse ushers Doph inside.  
         The general takes a seat in the waiting room and pulls out his tablet. There’s a great deal of paperwork to catch up on, and he figures the examination will take between ninety and one hundred twenty minutes. Ren hovers beside Hux’s chair, not taking a seat himself but choosing to stay and pace, even though there’s no reason for him to do so.  
         “I should tell you,” the knight states grimly, his voice made all the more serious by the vocorder. It’s all part of his reputation, and while the mask may do nothing to intimidate Hux, it does wonders for the rest of the crew.  
         “Yes?”  
         “Last night he shared something about his past with me, when we were alone on the shuttle.”  
         “About another paedophile?” Hux asks wearily, annoyed with Ren’s blossoming sense of morality.  
         “No. About his _brother_.”  
         Hux waits in silence for Ren to continue, but his mind is whirring.  
         “Um, so when Doph was twelve, before he started taking customers, his brother brought home some friends a few times. For Doph to learn how to give hand- and blowjobs.”  
          _Alright,_ the general thinks. That’s not much. Still not healthy, but in light of Doph’s numerous abusive experiences, rather minor.  
         “Then one time, after everyone left… Torian took his turn.”  
         The general instantly throws up the mental wall he employs to protect his mind from people like Ren. “Ah, I see.”  
         “And once, a few years later, before Doph moved out, Torian pressured him into sex.”  
         His words carefully selected and measured, Hux answers. “I appreciate you divulging this, Ren.” Then letting out a quiet sigh, he adds, “The boy is incredibly resilient, but even so. I need to tread lightly, considering the varieties of trauma he’s endured.”  
         “The first night I hired him, when I saw his arms, I thought, _Shit, he’s a fucking mess._ And I was a bit disgusted. But now, I can’t blame him.”  
         Shaking his head, Hux agrees, “No, one really can’t.”           
         “I mean, in a way, he’s surprisingly functional.”  
         “He has cobbled together coping strategies that have gotten him this far. It’ll take a great deal of work to build something not only functional, but healthy.”  
         “And you’re committed to helping that happen?”  
         Tilting his head at the question, Hux takes a moment to reflect. “I am.”

 

A petty officer enters the waiting room and walks up to the row of chairs where Hux is seated, but he stops short of his goal. His nervous eyes are glued to the imposing figure of Commander Ren leaning against the wall. “Sir?” he dares.  
         “Yes?” Hux inquires.  
         The young man rattles off his introduction. “Private Irhan, sir, personal secretary to Captain Peavey. I’ve been informed that Medical is about finished with the intake screening for the informant, sir. Also, I just received a notice from Security. They have a few questions about him, and were hoping—”  
         Nodding, Hux interrupts, “Go on.”  
         “First, will he have a private cell, or is general detention—”  
         Interrupting once again, Hux states, “You’ll be releasing him into my custody.”  
         “Oh.” The petty officer blinks at the screen of his tablet. “On what grounds, sir? Just for documentation purposes.”  
         “He and I have established a rapport. He poses no security threat and will be accompanied by a senior officer outside my quarters at all times.” The look he gives the secretary dares the man to ask further questions.  
         “Yes, sir.” Irhan taps a few entries on his datapad before scurrying away as fast as professionalism will allow. As the doors shut behind him, a nurse enters from the inner workings of the medical wing.  
         “Good morning, General,” she begins brightly, apparently one of those naturally cheerful beings. “So, Mr Mitaka is in generally good health. He’s free of any infectious agents and all organ functions are high. That being said, however—” she trails off here, clearly unsure how to break this news to the general.  
         “Yes?”  
         “He appears to have a severe opioid dependence.” Frowning deeply and lowering her voice, she adds, “He’s been using intravenously for some time.”  
         “I suspected as much. Is he in withdrawal?”  
         “Not yet, sir. But he’s close to it.”  
         “Start him on replacement therapy and bill my personal account for the expenses.”  
         “Yes, sir. I see he’ll be residing with you.” She’s doing an admirable job of treating this as standard procedure.  
         “Yes. You may release the medication to me in a lockbox keyed to my thumbprint, a week’s supply at a time.”  
         “Very good, sir. There are also psychological considerations, but as he isn’t part of the crew…” She shrugs, demonstrating that her hands are tied with bureaucracy.  
         “Of course. I understand.”  
         “I’ll pop back in to give him his first dose of methadone.” She pauses then, hand hovering over the door release panel. “One other thing, sir. It isn’t really my place, but—”  
         “Yes?”  
         “Are you two in an intimate relationship?”  
         He blinks are the phrasing but answers a different question. “I’ll see what I can do about retaining the services of a private counsellor.”  
         About fifteen minutes later, Doph emerges from the inner door with the nurse, looking both calmer and more tired.  
         “Here’s his meds, as requested,” the nurse says, handing a small metal box to the general. “Please sign here to acknowledge receipt.”  
         “Very good,” the redhead answers, borrowing the proffered stylus to sign his name on her datapad. Once again he takes hold of Doph by the arm, this time to lead him out of Medical and towards his quarters.  
         “How are you feeling?” Hux asks quietly when they’re alone.  
         “Better now that whatever they gave me is kicking in a bit.”  
         “It’s methadone. Don’t expect it to get you high, though.”  
         “I’m done getting high. I just don’t wanna withdraw. I was getting real close, I could tell.”  
         Hux nods, full of compassion. “That will be the last time. I promise.” Nodding at the door, he announces, “Here we are.” Placing his palm over the reader panel, the door opens and the general adds, “Welcome home, Dopheld.”  
         Doph’s surprise at Hux using his full given name vanishes with the first glimpse of Hux’s quarters. Eventually he comes to realise that Hux is watching him with an amused expression. “Holy… wow.”  
         “Surely you’ve had wealthy clients.”  
         “But that was all just temporary. You’ve asked me to live here. Like… like…”  
         “Go ahead.”  
         “A boyfriend.”  
         Hux moves to stand directly behind him and kisses his neck softly. “Yes. Exactly like that. Now, I have an audience to attend and a meeting to run but will return as soon as possible. There are some snacks in the kitchenette, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spoil your appetite for dinner.”  
         Before heading out, Hux secures the remainder of Doph’s stash in the lockbox. Although he’s not planning on dispensing anything other than methadone, he isn’t going to preclude the possibility. Something may come up. Specifically he imagines the anti-anxiety meds and muscle relaxants may eventually prove useful. One day he’d like to DP Doph, likely with Ren’s assistance. He wonders if that would make the boy scream or cry. He very much wants to find out.

 

After the debriefing on the Lothal mission runs longer than expected, Hux returns to his quarters to find Doph lounging on the couch in pyjama pants, rifling through a glossy catalogue detailing Sienar Jaemus Fleet Industries’ newest military-grade offerings. The boy looks startlingly comfortable, and it stirs Hux. This is what he wanted, after all—a pretty boy to come home to.  
         They enjoy a quiet dinner of roasted game-fowl with accompanying vegetables. Hux almost offered wine, but wasn’t sure if it might interact with the methadone, so they both had sparkling water instead. He makes a mental note to do some research.  
         When he hands Doph his evening dose, the young man looks up at him and says, “Thanks. What do you want tonight?”  
         “I’m a bit tired and I imagine you are as well.”  
         “Yeah,” Doph admits, but with a crooked smile reminds the general, “But it’s what I’m here for.”  
         “Let’s just go with oral, then.”  
         Once Hux has finished, he helps Doph to his feet and whispers in his ear, “Get on the bed and I’ll reciprocate.”  
         Jaw dropping, heart racing, Doph rushes to obey. He throws his pants across the room in an arc of impatience. As Hux puts his mouth on him, he trembles. “Oh, Maker, it’s been _years_ —” With a deep sigh, he adds, “And never this good.”  
         Chuckling lightly against him, Hux massages his balls with his fingers before sneakily pressing a knuckle behind them.  
         “Holy fucking—shit, Hux—God, you should warn a boy before—” His speech chokes off into a gasp when the redhead cranes his neck and takes Doph’s full length down. “You’re pfassking amazing—so close—Yes!” And he isn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t to have Hux swallow down his release and then lick his lips like he’d just eaten a delicacy.  
         The redhead settles down beside him and nuzzles at his neck. “Sleep well, darling.”

 

In the middle of the night, sometime after 0200, Doph turns toward Hux in bed.  
         “Hey,” he murmurs. “You awake?”  
         “Yes.” He hadn’t been, but he is now that Doph spoke.  
         “Hux, why am I here?”  
         The general reaches over to brush the hair off Doph’s forehead. “Because I couldn’t in good conscience leave you there. Not if you were willing to come with me. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure what I am doing. But I know I didn’t want you to go to waste. With no one truly appreciating you.”  
         “I just… No one’s ever… Thanks.”  
         Hux leans over him, places a soft kiss on his temple, and replies, “You’re quite welcome. You’re worth it. Hopefully someday you’ll understand that.”


	10. Settling In

On the morning of his first full day aboard the _Finalizer_ , Doph wakes even before Hux and starts pacing the living room, intermittently stopping to stretch his calves.  
         “How are you feeling?” the general asks from the doorway to the kitchenette and takes a sip of freshly brewed caf from the mug in his hands.  
         “Fine, I think. Couldn’t stay asleep.” He’d slept well at the start, but had became uncomfortable a few hours before dawn—or whenever his brain thought dawn would be. He bends sideways to rub his right calf, finding the muscle tender.  
         “Restless?”  
         “Yeah,” Doph admits. “A bit achy, too.” Besides, he’d found Hux’s bed luxurious in a way that made him very aware of his sudden elevation in status. Relaxing was difficult surrounded by so much silk and privilege.  
         Hux nods. “You’re likely to experience some minor withdrawal symptoms over the next few days.” He sees Doph stiffen. “I’m sorry, I only learned about this last night when I was reading up on it. You were already trying to sleep and I didn’t want to worry you. Grab some caf for yourself and we’ll talk before I head out.”  
         As Doph waits for the dispenser to fill his mug, Hux rises to fiddle with the medication lockbox, removing four tablets for the morning dose. The general sets them down on the kitchen table and Doph eyes them thoughtfully. These pieces of compressed powder are going to keep him from disaster. Hux takes his seat across the table and gulps his own caf—while Doph holds his mug in both hands, simply enjoying the heat radiating into his palms.  
         “Alright,” the redhead begins. “I checked and you’re on an appropriate starting dose. The major adjustment for you is that you’ll now have steady levels of an opiate in your system throughout the day, which isn’t what you’re used to. You won’t feel the highs you’ve come to expect, but you also won’t risk true withdrawal.”  
         Waving a hand in the air for illustration, Doph attempts to explain himself. “But this… What I’m feeling now, I’ve been through it before. The warning signs, just before it really hits. Like yesterday.”  
         “It shouldn’t get much worse. I’ve sent for a few items from Medical that should help keep you comfortable. Still, you may end up requiring a dose adjustment after a few weeks—something about metabolic changes. Look, methadone doesn’t grant the euphoria of tar. But it _is_ safe.”  
         “I suppose I don’t need the same kicks anymore. I’ve got something new to take its place.” With a slow grin, he asks, “You’re gonna keep fucking me on the regular, yeah?”  
         “I’m certainly planning on it, yes.”  
         “Quickie before work, General?” the boy asks, pushing his mug aside and leering.  
         “Oh, Doph, you’re incorrigible. Unfortunately, I need to get to the bridge.”  
         Before Hux leaves for the day, he places three prescription vials on the kitchen counter. Standing behind Doph with an arm around the young man’s middle, he explains their use.  
         “Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory: for low-grade fever and pain. Muscle relaxant for restlessness and aches. Central sympathetic antagonist, for anxiety. You may take one of each every eight hours. Use this piece of flimsy to record the times of any doses you take.”  
         Doph arches his back slightly to press his ass back against Hux’s groin. “The offer still stands.”  
         The general lets out a quiet groan. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. Keep your comm by you as I’ll be checking in periodically. There are some premade meals in the refrigeration unit.” Giving Doph’s waist a quick squeeze and pecking his cheek, he promises, “I’ll be home by 1930. I hope to find you up for some playtime after dinner.”  
         Doph turns and kisses Hux full on the lips. “Of course I will.”

 

All in all, it isn’t a bad day. Hux keeps his word and checks in periodically via comm messages.

   
        _AH: Did you take any of the NSAID and/or muscle relaxant?_  
_D.: Yes, one of each and not achy at all now. Just a little tired._

  
It’s weird being in someone else’s space without anyone present. He can wander around unsupervised. He can touch things without worry of being rebuked or accused of attempted theft.  
         Doph rouses from a brief, unplanned nap on the couch to discover that he’s famished. He can’t remember the last time he was this hungry. Heating up a bowl of soup and bolting it down, he sees another message.

   
_AH: Rest up all you’d like. Any other symptoms?_  
_D.: Not really._  
_AH: Good. No diarrhoea, watery eyes, running nose?_  
_D.: A bit sniffly. Nothing a tissue can’t fix._  
_AH: Excellent. How’s the mood?_

  
         Oddly, Doph glances around himself for clues. True, he hasn’t been feeling bursts of giddiness or euphoria, but he hasn’t noticed any issues either. It probably helps that everything is so different here. Maybe he’ll start feeling shitty after he settles in, but hopefully by that point his body and mind will be accustomed to functioning without tar, glitter, and benzos.

   
_D.: Mood is fine. Just looking forward to the end of your shift._  
_AH: As am I. I’m hoping to celebrate._

  
         There’s a tightening in his abdomen and a twitch from between his legs. This is something he’s picked up on: an undeniable upswing in ease of arousal. Possibly it’s because he’s surrounded by Hux’s things in these rooms. Before his nap on the couch, he’d wandered around, peeking into cabinets and drawers. Not surprisingly, he’d found Hux’s belongings all very tidily arranged and stored. Looking into the general’s wardrobe, he surveyed the line of crisp uniforms (standard, dress, parade) and caught the smell of the man’s aftershave and a faint hint of tabacc. Then Doph had realised he was fully hard and barked out a laugh.  
         Shaking his head at the thought, he figures Hux will at least derive some amusement from his current hair-trigger erections.  
         There’s one cabinet in the bedroom that is locked—not by key code but instead with an old-fashioned bolt. Idly Doph wonders about it, but his attention is soon diverted by a new message.

_AH: Feel free to access the Net using the tablet on the desk. The pad should recognise your right thumbprint._

 

         When Hux returns, he quizzes Doph on the physiologic details of his second day on maintenance. The boy is doing well, he determines, with only minor symptoms of withdrawal and those he is tolerating well. But what concerns Hux is the state of his mind. Because the general has been educating himself on the topic of addiction, and one thing that he already knew is that recovery requires a great deal of support. Preferably including that of an experienced therapist. And that isn’t an option here. He can’t trust anyone—not even a licensed medical professional—with their secret.  
         Instead, Armitage Hux will have to suffice. The general will have to be everything for the boy. Friend, lover, counsellor, saviour.  
         They do end up celebrating after dinner. From Hux’s point of view, it’s a pretty run of the mill fuck, but he appreciates Doph’s unbridled enthusiasm. Besides, there’s time enough for them to get around to the sort of thing that Hux is looking forward to. A bit of a delay will only make the consummation that much more satisfactory. One of these days, he’ll be unlocking his cabinet.

 

On the third day, Hux returns to his quarters at lunchtime. He frames it as an opportunity for a blowjob, but he’s mostly here to check on Doph’s status, and to hand him a personal datapad to use as he sees fit.  
         He’s considering installing a closed-circuit vid feed in his quarters so that he can monitor Dopheld from his desk. Purely for the young man’s sake, of course. He weighs the decision while moving the boy’s head up and down his dick. But then Doph splutters and gags, sending all future plans out of Hux’s mind. Only one thing matters right now.  
         “Oh, fuck. Sit back now. I’d like to come on your face.” Steadying himself with one arm on his desk, he does so. “Beautiful,” he pants before tucking himself away. As he heads to the fresher to straighten up, Dopheld cleans himself off with his hands, lazily licking his fingers one at a time.  
         The boy stands and leans in the doorway, watching the general reapply his hair gel and comb it in. “So, can I jack off while you’re gone, or do I need to wait?”  
         Hux turns. “You needn’t do anything. But I’d greatly appreciate it if you could hold off. I’m certain I can think of a way to show that appreciation.” As a hint, he licks his lips.  
         In response, Doph smiles a little shyly. “Oh, I can wait, then.” He could wait days if it meant Hux touching—or Maker help us, putting his mouth on—him.  
         “Excellent,” the general says, checking his chrono. “Alright, I’m off. Be good.”

 

Doph spends much of his time on the Net. He downloads a few applications. He wastes three full hours bouncing from one encyclopaedia article to another, focusing on the history of the First Order and its current structure. It seems like the sort of knowledge he ought to have, since he’s living with the organisation’s most-decorated general. (Also, catching sight of a portrait photo of Hux in full dress regalia, he hopes the man might be interested in wearing the outfit in the bedroom at some point.)  
         Around four in the afternoon he joins a chat community for recovering addicts and trades messages with a young woman who has also just started methadone.

 _Yessa: I’ve got a job interview next week. Have to get some new clothes for it, cuz I can’t wear my outfits from my last work._  
      _Doph: What did you used to do?_  
_Yessa: Um. Stripping. So… yeah._  
_Doph: No judgements here. I just quit whoring._  
_Yessa: No shit? Yeah, I used to sometimes take guys in the back room for extra cash. And tar._  
_Doph: I bet my dealer’s missing me now. Well, missing my blowjobs._  
_Yessa: Ha! I bet. You’re a guy, right?_  
_Doph: Oh, yes._  
_Yessa: Was your family not cool with the gay thing? Is that part of why you went on the game and tar?_  
_Doph: My family was just my brother. Parents died when I was really young—I don’t remember them._  
_Yessa: Was your brother alright?_  
_Doph: He’s the one said I should go on the game to start with, after I quit school._  
_Yessa: Shit. If you don’t mind sharing, how old were you?_  
_Doph: Twelve._  
_Yessa: Fuuuuuck. That sucks, dude. I’ve got lot less reason for shooting up than you do._  
_Doph: We all have our fucked up reasons. What made you decide to quit?_  
_Yessa: Best friend ODed last month. Died from it._  
_Doph: Sorry. I lost friends, too._

Instantly, Doph remembers Lindya. Her crooked smile, ever-changing hair dye, the scent of her clove cigarras. She hadn’t been his first friend to die, but her overdose had hit him hardest. Frowning now, he wills himself not to think about her funeral and his near-fight with her asshole father. He fails. When he raises his eyes to the screen again, he sees a new message. Wiping his wet eyes off on the sleeve of his sweater, he returns to the conversation.

 _Yessa: What about you? Why are you cleaning up?_  
_Doph: I got an offer from an out-of-town client. To come back home with him, move in. But he wanted me clean._  
_Yessa: Nice! Is he hot?_  
_Doph: So fucking hot. I’ve got a real weakness for gingers, though._  
_Yessa: Shit, me too. Sounds like you’ve got a good deal, then._

The front door slides open and Doph looks up from the datapad. “Good evening, sir. How was your day?”  
“Long. Four meetings and little to show for it.”  
Doph murmurs his sympathy and types in a goodbye to Yessa.  
“Whom are you talking to?” Hux inquires, standing by Doph’s feet and looking down over the top of the screen.  
“Another recovering addict.”  
“Hmm.” Hux takes a seat on the couch next to Doph as the boy powers down the tablet and sets it on the caf table. Placing a supportive hand above Doph’s knee, he concludes, “That could be helpful. I hope I don’t need to explain the necessity of keeping the specifics of your situation vague?”  
“Of course not. All I said is that I moved in with a rich former customer.”  
“Good.”  
“And that you’re painfully hot.”  
“Ah. Why don’t you come over here and show your appreciation?”  
Doph positively beams as he clambers onto the general’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mention of past drug overdose and death.


End file.
